


A Night at the Opera

by a_scholar



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Sauli Koskinen RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Drama, M/M, Operas, Romance, Secret Identity, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_scholar/pseuds/a_scholar
Summary: A mysterious masked figure living under the Opera house, known only as the Phantom, has been mentoring Sauli in his dancing. At first only a commanding and seductive voice, Sauli finally meets the man and is caught up in the strange goings-on at the Opera.---Author's notes regarding writing at the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [-Katja-](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=-Katja-).



> This is my last A/S fic and I just wanted to mention it here, for lack of any better place, to let any readers who might come looking for more to know. I don't feel able to write about them anymore for many reasons, but that doesn't mean I don't still hold very dear each and every one of my fics. :) I truly fell in love with the world of each one, and I think a few fics are so special to me that they'll always be a part of me. I'm so happy I got to end with this one, because writing it was an absolutely wonderful adventure. Warm thanks to all readers who have felt that my fics deserve kudos, and a special thank you to the amazing people who have left me comments. I don't think you can imagine how much they've meant to me.

”Watch out, Sauli!”

Sauli ducks down to avoid colliding his head with an enormous artificial elephant tusk that's being carried by two men towards a busy stage. A quick grin directed at his friend Meg, another dancer, conveys his gratitude.

Rehearsals for a new production, Hannibal, are underway. The stage is filled with actors, dancers, stagehands and various other people. Not to mention props depicting giant elephants, exotic landscapes, glittering weapons and everything that could possibly be imagined to represent Carthaginian army.

The noise is something else, too. No particular scene going on, but an aria being practiced in one corner of the stage, while Madame Giry, the Opera's ballet mistress, is instructing dancers in another.

Although Sauli is a dancer, he is not among them, instead watching everything from the wings with a few other dancers who are on standby. He's ready to jump on the stage if need be, but that's hardly going to be the case. He's only an understudy for the principal male dance role of this production, the Slave Master. The role is reserved for the Opera's star dancer, and only in case of an injury or sickness would Sauli need to take over.

It feels almost silly to be wearing an identical costume with the principal dancer, because Sauli is never going to dance this role. No matter that he knows it by heart. He scratches his bare arm and surpresses a sigh. It's no use getting disappointed about it; he knew they'd never give him a chance, since the Opera already has a principal dancer who's known throughout France. Surely in part for his dancing ability (or rather, hopefully, although even thinking that makes Sauli feel guilty), but also for his temperament and demanding behaviour.

Without having to dance and move constantly, Sauli is starting to get almost chilly, wearing nothing but a gold and green kilt-like piece of clothing with a golden belt, and sandals that are laced with leather straps all the way up below his knees.

”Quiet! Please, everyone quiet on stage!”

All the people stop whatever they were doing and turn to look at a group of gentlemen walking across the auditorium and finally climbing up on the stage.

Sauli recognises the elderly manager of Opéra Garnier, but the other two gentlemen he's never seen before, both of them middle-aged and mustachioed.

”Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all gather around me.” The manager motions for the actors to come closer while leaning against a cane. ”For some time there have been rumours about my retirement, and I can now confirm them to be true. I am leaving the Opera in good hands, however. May I present the new owners of Opéra Garnier, Messieurs André and Firmin.”

Immediately following this pronouncement and before anyone has time to react with appropriate applauds, there's a loud twang to be heard, unmistakably the sound of violin string snapping. It's impossible to tell where it came from, the sound reverberating all around the auditorium.

The clapping starts slowly but reaches polite levels.

Mr Firmin takes over and briefly describes the duo's plans for a new glorious era in the Opera.

”May I, in turn, present the new generous patron of this Opera and a dear friend of mine, the Vicomte of Chagny.”

A new man arrives on the stage, one considerably younger than the others. He's tall and slim, wearing a suit of dark green. Dark blond hair, almost reaching his shoulders.

”That's Raoul,” Sauli hears himself whisper aloud, staring at the man in astonishment.

”Who?” Meg asks.

”My childhood friend,” he whispers back. ”In the countryside, before my father died. We used to play games together.” They used to do other things, too. Go riding and swimming together, basically do everything together for two long summers. It had been during that time of transition from childhood to adolescence, and truth be told, afterwards Sauli had often wondered if he had been about to develop a crush on Raoul, or even if he had already been harbouring one, not yet recognising the feeling.

He's so deep into musing about the past that he doesn't really even hear what the men are saying on stage—something about skipping the rehearsals and preserving the magic of the opera until the opening night. Raoul then leaves, accompanied by the old manager.

Sauli almost yells after him, but then, if Raoul is a patron now, surely Sauli will have a chance to greet him later and reminiscence about the old days.

When Sauli sees the principal dancer being introduced to the new managers and take the starting position of one of the dances in Hannibal, he realises a performance is about to ensue.

Music starts playing, but not even fifteen seconds into the dance, everything gets interrupted by a huge backdrop canvas falling from above, missing the dancer, who screams with a high-pitched voice and falls over. Loud commotion follows, people screaming and rushing all over the place, shouting to ask if there's anyone up in the flies controlling the rigging: a system of ropes and lines to change the sceneries, curtains and other elements on the stage. There seems to be no one above, but it would be strange for the backdrop to fall by its own.

The managers are trying to calm down the visibly shaken dancer.

”Do calm down, dear sir. Surely this accident was not serious and all is well now.”

”Accident? Accident?! I have had enough of these 'accidents'!” the man screams in a shrill voice. ”For an entire year now, every time I'm rehearsing a new role there's an 'accident'! And sometimes during performances, too! I've told you a million times, but this is the final straw. Until you stop these accidents, you will not see me step my foot inside this Opera. Adieu!”

The man stomps off the stage, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Suddenly a laugh breaks the silence. A low, velvety smooth chuckle, slightly humourless and mocking. It echoes strangely, as if at first coming from one direction, then another. Most of the people don't react to it, staying unmoving and expressionless, but some look around in confusion, and the managers especially are trying to locate the source.

Madame Giry steps forth, holding something.

”I have a message, sirs. From the Opera Ghost.”

”Ghost?” Mr André asks with a look of disgust. ”What is this nonsense? I thought it was just a childish rumour!”

Ignoring the comment, Madame Giry unfolds a piece of paper.

”He welcomes you to his Opera—”

”I beg your pardon!”

”Demands that Box Five is left empty for his use, as always, and he points out that his salary is overdue.”

”His _what?_ ”

”He would like you to know that any misuse of his Opera is not tolerated, and lastly he looks forward to seeing the new principal dancer of Hannibal perform.”

The last comment seems to remind André and Firmin of the very real problem in their hands, enough to make them able to brush aside for the moment everything else said in the preposterous message.

”The dancer—” Mr André says wringing his hands together. ”What are we going to do? We've already sold out several shows in advance.”

”We do have an understudy,” Madame Giry points out. ”A very talented one, who has been well-taught. He will not disappoint you. Sauli!” She snaps her fingers and music starts playing.

Sauli steps onto the stage, a mix of concentration and excitement coming upon him instantly.

”Sauli, the whip!” Meg whispers and Sauli catches the whip that she throws at him.

A group of female dancers take their place and Sauli steps in front of them. His body knows these movements. In time with the lively but seductive music, he starts dancing the role of the Slave Master, leaping and jumping across the stage. Unlike the dancer before him, instead of just holding the whip in his hand like a prop, he uses it, aggressively snapping it against the floor. In another moment he's walking backwards in front of the slave girls, his flexible body moving suggestively, as if he's enthralling the girls and making them follow him not by force, but out of desire.

Sauli dances, remembering the recent suggestions from a bodiless voice, a voice that's like honey to his ears. This is what he loves, his heart soaring at being able to dance. It's almost like he's not even in control of his own body, his body just moving and his will following behind.

There's one grand jeté in the dance, one large leap that's like a split in the air. He prepares for it, gathering momentum.

_Higher, higher! I know you can do it_. An encouraging voice he's heard many times now echoes in his head.

He makes it, feeling like he's flying, and hears a gasp from the spectators. It ends the dance.

”Bravo!”

He bows, and the applauds from the new managers are profuse. They seem to be completely in awe and almost in tears from relief that the production is not doomed after all.

In the midst of it a single red rose drops on the stage from somewhere above. Before running off the stage Sauli picks it up, a hot flush creeping up his neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Hardly able to believe his good fortune, Sauli jogs away from the stage, everything that the managers and Madame Giry said still echoing in his ears. Admittedly he feels a little sorry for the other dancer, but not enough to let it dampen his spirits at being told he is instantly cast as the principal male dancer in Hannibal, and if the shows go well, he will be the principal dancer in all future productions.

”That was amazing, Sauli!” Meg says when he catches up to her and they start walking towards the backstage with their arms over each other's shoulders. A sharp _ahem_ sound from behind makes them drop their arms. Meg gestures something towards the stage.

”I'm sorry. Mother knows you're a bird, but apparently I still can't treat you the same as my girlfriends.”

”That's alright,” Sauli says laughing, unbothered. It's not even the first time Madame Giry has reprimanded them for being too friendly with each other. ”I'm still very much a man, even if I'm not interested in women. She's not thinking about what could happen, she's thinking about what people might think. It's not your virtue in question but your reputation. I'm not a very _fabulous_ bird, am I, so people might not know, and start talking.”

”Ugh, mothers. Ugh, gossip. But tell me, how on earth were you so spectacular? I've never seen you dance like that before. Mother can't possibly have taught you all that. Have you been taking lessons elsewhere?”

Sauli looks around, spotting a quiet corner and leading Meg there.

”Will you keep a secret if I tell you? And not think me crazy?”

”Of course!” Meg gives him a curious look.

”Someone has been... Instructing me. I've never met him, never even seen him. When I practice alone, I hear his voice give me suggestions and encouragement.” He fiddles with the rose as he talks, touching the thorns. ”I know what this sounds like—hearing voices. You probably think it's all in my head. But everyone knows there's... _Someone_ inside this Opera House, and I think the Phantom is a living man rather than a specter.”

Meg has gone pale, eyes wide as saucers.

”Sauli, that's terrifying. You're lucky to be alive. Who knows what could have happened to you?”

”No, no, you misunderstand! He doesn't wish me ill, and he's not scary at all. He's... _Kind_. I mean, he likes to assume the role of a harsh and critical teacher, but he's not fooling me. He's helped me so much in expressing the mood of the piece and the feelings the character is feeling. I think your mother is still one of the best in France to teach posture and steps, but the Phantom has an amazing understanding of drama, you know? I don't know if he's a dancer himself. Sometimes when I practice I can hear music being played, but most often he sings. I've never heard a voice like his. I call him my Angel of Music.”

He doesn't manage to entirely convince Meg, but she calms down a little and promises not to interfere.

”I think you should ask your mother about it,” Sauli says. ”If you're curious. Maybe she'll tell you. I tried asking her once, but she pretended not to even hear me. I'm sure she knows something—you saw she had a letter.”

Meg promises she will before running off to the women's dressing room. Since Sauli is now the principal dancer, he gathers his possessions from the common dressing room for male dancers and moves into a room of his own, now vacant but untidy, the previous owner clearly having left in a hurry. It's not terribly large, but having his own privacy is nice, and the room is cosy enough. The walls covered by soft dark fabrics, and there's a huge mirror against one wall, large enough to show his entire figure so he can practice in front of it.

By the time he's tidied everything up and settled down, it's already late and things have quietened down in the Opera house.

Sauli is standing in front of the mirror, inspecting his reflection. There's a flush on his cheeks, maybe from the effort of cleaning, or the excitement of the day. The eyeliner and green eyeshadow which are part of the Slave Master's look are perhaps a little smudged, but not badly. His curls frame his face. He puts his hand over his stomach and tightens his abdominal muscles, looking at his side reflection and trying to determine whether he's getting soft in the middle from not dancing enough. That should change soon.

”You look lovely.”

Sauli smiles and lets the low voice wash over him, the whisper like a caress.

”Thank you. And _thank you_. I hope you didn't mean to hurt the dancer...?” He wants to make sure, although he's pretty certain the Phantom hadn't. Ever since Sauli came to the Opera house, the little 'accidents' he's noticed have been thoroughly harmless, even if the ensuing gossip has blown them out of proportion. Besides, even small inexplicable occurrences seem scarier when they're said to be the work of a ghost.

”Just his ego, and thank God he finally got the hint. The Opera now has a dancer who's far more deserving.”

The Phantom starts humming a tune, a familiar one that Sauli has heard many times.

”I see you've kept my rose,” the Phantom says, and Sauli glances at the rose he's put in a small vase on his makeup table.

”Angel. Won't you show yourself to me?” he huffs, exasperated.

There's no answer.

”I know you're not some ghost. You've helped me so much, and I'd like to look you in the eye when I thank you.”

He waits for a reply, but none comes. After a while the silence changes: instead of a pressing silence of things left unsaid, it's now an empty silence. He knows the Phantom is no longer there.

What a surprise. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to pressure the Phantom. It's just that the deep voice has become so familiar to him, a friend. Something draws him to that voice, and he's always longing to hear it when he's gone too long without.

”Coward,” he mutters. ”Why is it only you who gets to see me?”

Because obviously the Phantom sees his somehow, at least in certain rooms and places. He can feel eyes on him, and the Phantom is able to comment on his dancing. It's hard to deduce anything about the Phantom's age or appearance based on his voice. The voice is quite low, captivating, often even seductive.

He can't help but be curious about what the Phantom feels towards him. For some reason the Phantom has picked Sauli as a favourite of some sort, chosen to get invested in his career. For what? Sometimes when Sauli is holding himself in a certain pose, there's a quality to the voice that could be descibed as yearning, maybe. It's difficult to tell, but he knows the Phantom isn't indifferent to him. Every time he thinks about what his previous teachers have sounded like and compares their voices to the Phantom's flirtatious one, it seems obvious that the Phantom is looking at him in a way that no other teachers have.

”Why do _you_ get to decide when we communicate?” he says into the silence.

\---

When Sauli is dancing during the opening night, he notices the audience is completely silent and focused in watching him. It's exhilarating to notice he's captivated them. He spots Raoul sitting in the audience, staring with his mouth dropped open. He also glances at Box Five, which is hidden in the shadows. Maybe if he was able to stare longer, he would be able to tell whether there's a shape there or not, but he can't do that when he's on stage.

The rapturous applauds can be heard all the way back to his dressing room, and inside Sauli finds a bouquet of flowers waiting. His knowledge of flowers and their symbolism isn't vast, but he recognises red carnations and blue forget-me-nots. There's a note.

” _I'm always here if you need me_ ,” he reads aloud. The handwriting is nice.

Soon after he hears voices outside of his room, someone being directed to his door.

”Come in,” he says smiling.

Raoul comes in, holding a bouquet of red roses. That's funny, he must have ordered them during the show.

”Sauli! Is it really you? I could hardly believe my eyes!”

”Yes, it's me,” he says laughing.

”I can still call you Sauli, right?” Raoul asks.

”Of course, if I can call you Raoul. I can't imagine calling you the Vicomte—I'm sorry, I heard about your father passing.”

”Thank you, you're sweet. I see you've already received flowers,” Raoul says looking at the other bouquet.

”Well, it's always nice to get flowers.”

”Do you remember that one field by the lake we used to go to? It was left fallow and it grew all sorts of flowers.”

”I do remember,” Sauli says smiling. He can easily imagine himself in there, lying on his back, feeling a soft breeze and listening to the sound of crickets.

”I shouldn't bother you longer, you're not even fully dressed,” Raoul says, definitely giving him a once-over. ”I'm sure I'll see you at the new luncheon, right? For friends of the Opera? We can talk more there. About old and new things. Here,” Raoul says and replaces the flowers in the vase on Sauli's makeup table with his roses, transferring the old flowers into a bucket on the floor, which used to hold ice for cooling Sauli's muscles.

They agree to meet at the luncheon and Raoul leaves, closing the door behind him.

” _Insolent boy!”_ a booming voice shouts. The fact that the Phantom has appeared doesn't surprise Sauli, but the force of his voice does.

” _Ignorant fool!”_ the Phantom shouts again, though now with more restraint, and then his voice turns into singing, with a rather mocking tone. _”This brave young suitor...”_

”I don't see what you care about my suitors. You're only my teacher, and a very arbitrary one at that. Not my parent or my godparent or my guardian, suitor or lover or friend. I don't even know your age, so I don't know which category could suit you.”

”You—fine. Look into the mirror,” the voice says in a grumpy tone.

”What?”

” _Keep looking_ into the mirror,” the Phantom says, his voice echoing strangely.

Sauli stares at his own reflection dumbly, tired of the Phantom's tricks.

Some time passes, but then Sauli realises he's seeing a dark shape in the mirror. Somehow it's behind is own reflection, but when he turns around, there's nothing behind him. The shape comes closer in the mirror, and Sauli's heart almost jumps out of his chest when the mirror suddenly moves. It's a _door_. The mirror in the dressing room is actually a door that opens and reveals a stone corridor behind it, and a man standing in there. The corridor is dark, and he can tell it's long only by seeing a dim light in the distance. The figure is tall, clad in black—probably a cloak. He gets a glimpse of a white face before the man turns around. There's a hand outstretched towards Sauli.

Sauli takes it. The Phantom's palm is covered with a leather glove, but his fingers are bare and warm. They start walking, the Phantom leading Sauli to who knows where. While walking, he brushes his fingers slowly against the Phantom's. The skin is firm and smooth, soft. The man isn't old.

”Sing for me,” he blurts out, feeling nervous in the heavy silence.

The Phantom tilts his head a little but doesn't turn around.

”If you dance for me. In my lair.”

Lair? What kind of place is the man living in?

The Phantom starts singing, something mesmerising and haunting.


	3. Chapter 3

The corridor they're walking along slants slightly down, and at the end of it they descend a stone staircase. Sauli stops behind the Phantom, and in the light of a couple of lanterns, he can see they've reached a subterranean lake. Does anyone even know there's such a thing beneath the Opera house? The water is still and there's mist floating over it.

He looses his grip of the Phantom's hand when the Phantom crouches to pick up a lantern and attach it to the bow of a narrow boat.

”Step in,” the Phantom says with his back to Sauli. ”Wait, I'll help you.”

”No need. I can do it myself,” he says, reluctant to keep being led forward as if he's feeble or frightened, even though holding the warm fingers had felt nice.

The Phantom stands back up, turning to look at him, and now Sauli can finally ascertain his suspicion. The white thing he saw a glimpse of is a mask. A porcelain mask covering most of the Phantom's face, except cutting off above his mouth, so that his lips, chin and jawline are visible. Those are dominated by a short dark beard and mustache. There's also some skin visible around the eyes. Looking into the eyes makes everything stop for a while. Sauli wants to look away and yet doesn't, feeling awkward and nervous but not necessarily in a bad way, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. The eyes are dark, perhaps very dark grey or brown, although it's so dark in the cave.

The Phantom clears his throat, and it's such a humane sound from the imposing figure that it breaks the moment a little, freeing Sauli from his stupor. He steps onto the boat very carefully and sits down.

”I should have known you still wouldn't let me see you,” he says, watching as the Phantom detaches a rope. The man is indeed wearing a black cape, and a black open evening coat that reaches mid-thigh. It's not all black, however: the waistcoat is of a reddish-brown floral pattern, the cravat is brown and the white shirt underneath has an upturned collar.

”This is how it has to be,” the Phantom says, disappearing from Sauli's sight. Then he feels the boat rock as the Phantom steps behind him. ”It's how I've chosen to exist in the world, as the Phantom.”

Sauli glances behind him and notices the Phantom has even acquired a hat from somewhere, a black fedora. He's standing at the stern and now pushing the boat away from the shore with the help of a long rowing oar.

”Are you a gondolier, too?” Sauli asks as they take off, the Phantom helping the boat glide slowly forward.

”Whatever you need me to be.”

The words settle deep into his stomach and cause a warm fluttering. So many answers flash through his mind, from cheeky to racy, but he holds his tongue. He's still uncertain of what their strange relationship is and what the Phantom wants from him. Not to mention what Sauli himself wants from the Phantom.

He hugs his knees close while sitting in the boat, his shoulders shivering. It's actually surprisingly warm in the cave, considering, but he's still wearing nothing but the Slave Master's kilt.

The boat rocks a little and then he's enveloped in warmth, the Phantom's cape draped over his shoulders.

”Smells good,” he says without thinking, biting his lip and breathing the scent.

The Phantom doesn't reply, and the boat stays still for so long that Sauli almost turns around before it glides forward again.

The Phantom starts singing. Sauli recognises it instantly as an aria from Hannibal, the one that comes before his dance in Hannibal's harem. The boat enters a narrower part of the cave system, and then a narrower, until it stops before a latticed iron gate. There must be some kind of a pulley which the Phantom uses, because the gate rises up from the lake so they can pass under it.

Soon they clearly reach their destination. The cape slides off from Sauli's shoulders as he stands up and steps on dry land, his mouth dropping open in wonder. He'd like to run up the few steps of stairs to explore, but instead he waits politely and follows the Phantom, who lights a candle and starts going from one candelabrum to another, illuminating the place they've entered.

'Lair' is hardly an appropriate name, since it brings to mind something dark and nasty. This place is beautiful. It's like a house, except the natural roof of the cave is its roof, and everything is one open space except for ornamental screens which separate the area into different sections. One space is clearly reserved for writing, a huge desk in the middle with lots of oil lamps and candles to give light. Stacks of paper are piled everywhere, and there's also a piano along with other instruments. Behind the work space is clearly what could be called a bedroom; Sauli can see the edge of a bed and a crimson red bed covering. In one corner of the cave there's amazingly even a copper bathtub, and a water pipe over it, which he suspects leads into some kind of a boiler that can heat water. The floors are covered with Turkish carpets, and there's so much lavish ornamentation and fabrics everywhere that the place has definitely been decorated by someone with an expensive taste. The word salary comes back into Sauli's mind.

He's turning his head this way and that, trying to take everything in, when the Phantom rushes past him to a 'room' that has a canvas easel, although it stands with the back of the canvas towards Sauli, so he can't see what's being painted on it. The Phantom throws a cover over the whole thing before going to the piano, throwing his hat off and sliding his fingers over the keys from one end to the other, playing a glissando.

”Dance for me!” the Phantom says, starting to play music that Sauli knows. ”The harem dance.”

Sauli tucks his curls behind his ears and stretches his arms behind his back languidly. Then he lets his body sort of fall into the dance, which starts in a leisurely and unhurried manner, but gets increasingly lively.

Almost immediately the music changes into just the basic rhythm, and when glancing at the Phantom Sauli notices the man's eyes are fixed on him. It makes him wonder if the Phantom isn't entirely proficient with the piano, instead possibly a master at singing and only a passable player, if he can't handle playing the entire complex piece and staring at Sauli at the same time.

”Dance for me, Sauli.  _Dance!_ ”

He does, wishing he could express with his body that even if there were a hundred people watching, he would be dancing only for the Phantom. There's no wall between them now, no literal wall or a even a figurative one that exists on stage between the performer and the audience. That burning stare is igniting a fire in him, and how can he ever dance again if it's not for those eyes? 

The dance turns more rapid and furious until he's spinning around again and again, golden mirrors and candelabra spinning in his vision so that he feels almost faint.

Finally he stops, the Phantom stopping the music at exactly the same time. In a mirror Sauli sees his own reflection, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The Phantom looks at him, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. For the first time Sauli pays attention to the Phantom's hair and how soft it looks. It's shining in the candlelight, a warm brown colour, now swept so it's covering the mask's forehead.

Sauli takes a subconscious step closer, but the Phantom flinches and steps back as if Sauli is something to be afraid of.

”You're too beautiful,” the Phantom says.

He gives out a surprised laugh. But from that comment Sauli is at last certain that the Phantom is attracted to him. At least on some level, even though the Phantom could also be somewhat in denial. Of course, one can appreciate what they deem beautiful even without attraction playing any part in it, but combined with everything else, it seems obvious that the Phantom desires him.

The Phantom really cuts an impressive figure. Tall, the shoulders of his frock coat complimenting his figure even further. He doesn't appear to be thin and lanky, or have a dancer's lean but strong body like Sauli: instead he's fuller, has more mass than say, Raoul. But it's hard to determine anything else about the Phantom's body, with so many layers of clothes that are not too tight.

If the Phantom is indeed attracted to men, he's no bird, however. Not a Molly or a Daisy. There's such a commanding air that he's definitely of the other kind. A wolf, a jocker.  _A gentleman of the backdoor._

Sauli swallows thickly. They could be compatible in bed. Theoretically.

”Angel,” he says, his arm twitching as if trying to reach out.

”Don't—” the Phantom says loudly before gaining control of his voice. ”Call me that. I'm no angel.”

”I'll call you an Angel if I want to,” Sauli says and puts his tongue out. ”What are you going to do? Come here and gag me if you wish.”

The Phantom stares at him, clearly both stunned and annoyed. Perhaps he shouldn't be teased.

Maybe the Phantom doesn't quite know what to do with him, now that he has Sauli in his lair. It doesn't seem like the man has many visitors. Perhaps the Phantom hasn't really imagined what it would be like to have Sauli there. Or rather, maybe the Phantom has imagined this situation so many times that when the real Sauli doesn't follow the imaginary script, it's confusing the Phantom.

”Do you just like to be mysterious or do you dislike the way you look?” he decides to ask straight-up.

The Phantom's full lips open, but no sound comes out.

”What?” Sauli asks.

”Nothing,” the Phantom finally says gruffly. ”I suppose I expected you to phrase that as 'what's wrong with your face?' I hate some things about the way I look, but that's not why I wear a mask.”

”So you just want to hide. Do you never leave the Opera house?”

He takes the silence as an embarrassed confirmation, watching as the Phantom rubs his beard and starts fiddling with some objects on a table.

”I've never heard a voice like yours,” Sauli says. ”Ever. You're better than any of the singers in our Opera. Why are you in here and not out there, performing for the world?”

”You should ask the world that,” the Phantom says, voice now biting and sarcastic.

So... Has he been hurt somehow?

”I'm sorry,” Sauli says. ”I have no right to question you. I'm sorry for making you angry.”

”I'm not angry!” the Phantom says, sounding angry. ”I'm just—not good for anyone. I'm a creature of the night, the work is all I have. I shouldn't even—but I can't help...” The Phantom mutters, clearly anxious and like he's talking to himself more than to Sauli, not making much sense.

The Phantom draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he goes to the piano and starts pressing keys, eyes closed. As he starts to sing, Sauli realises he was just finding the right key. The Phantom is singing a cappella. It's a slow piece, spellbinding. Sauli has never heard it before. Somehow, although it might be mad, it feels like the entire song is just for him, coming directly from the Phantom's soul. The Phantom's voice is emotional and raw, but beautifully controlled at the same time.

” _Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses...”_

Sauli is faintly aware the song is putting him in a trance-like state, his eyes half-lidded. The voice is moving around him, so the Phantom must be circling him while singing.

” _Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world!_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!_

_Let your soul_

_Take you where you long to be!_

_Only then... Can you belong to me”_

In the end he starts feeling extremely light-headed and dizzy, like he's falling, but before everything goes black he's caught by something soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I don't have the heart to make him deformed, he's such a pretty babe ;_;


	4. Chapter 4

Sauli wakes up in a bed. There's no confusion about where he is, because as soon as he opens his eyes, he can see the Phantom some distance away. The screens have been moved so that there's a direct line of vision from the bed to the writing desk. The Phantom is slumped against it, sleeping, head pillowed against his arms. Sauli looks at him for a while, smiling.

There's water on a table next to the bed, so he quenches his thirst. It's no wonder he fainted. He hadn't drank anything since mid-show.

Since the Phantom is asleep, Sauli dares to take a quick look around. Surprisingly the Phantom has an extensive wardrobe with many theatre outfits. It seems that he likes to play dress-up by himself when not hiding in black. There's lots of jewellery, too. Making sure that the Phantom is still asleep, Sauli tiptoes around him and goes to the painting. Lifting the cloth reveals an unfinished painting of a curly-haired male dancer balancing on one leg, hands outstretched.

He looks at it for a long time.

The way the Phantom seems to feel about him could possibly be described in many ways, depending on your point of view. Meg would definitely call it an obsession. Sauli himself would earlier have called it a fascination, but now he wants to... He wants to call it a passion.

Drawn to the slumbering figure, Sauli leaves the painting alone and goes to look at the Phantom. He looks peaceful for once, even behind the mask. Mouth relaxed, eyes closed peacefully and not scrunched shut. Candlelight on the desk flickers, the soft dim light giving what's visible of the Phantom's face a warm colour, instead of paleness that could be expected for someone living underground. Sauli looks at the fluffy hair, then individual strands of dark beard. The beard is very short but thick, especially below the chin. Sauli brushes over his own jaw, feeling a five o'clock shadow of his own light stubble. Next thing he knows his hand stretches out towards the edge of the white mask. When his fingertips graze it and try to lift it, the Phantom jerks awake.

”No!”

A chair falls over as the Phantom stands up, grabbing Sauli's wrist in an iron grip and grabbing hold of Sauli's hair with another hand, forcing him to bend his head back slightly.

Even though Sauli's other hand is free, he doesn't try to free himself. Instead he puts his hand on the Phantom's arm for support, breathing steadily.

The Phantom's hold of him is strong, eyes furious. When emotions run high and passion is involved, adrenaline making you see red, the line to physical violence is crossed easily. It's an easy outlet for rage.

”Damn you!” the Phantom grits out.

”You wouldn't hurt me,” Sauli says. Not in order to beg for mercy or calm the Phantom down, but just because he knows it's true. ”You'd never hurt me.”

The Phantom tightens his grip for a moment, mouth an angry line. Then his mouth opens and and a red glistening tongue licks his lips quickly, Sauli's eyes dropping down to look. Suddenly the grip of his hair is released, though, and the Phantom turns away, dragging Sauli behind him.

”Wait, Angel!”

” _Damn you_. You're leaving now.”

He'd thought the waterway was the only route to the lair, but the Phantom drags him towards a dark corner. He hears the creak of a door and they enter a pitch-black corridor, so narrow that his shoulders brush its walls. The air is stuffy. Asking to be released, cursing or hitting the man would hardly help, so he follows silently. He doesn't very much want to be left alone in the dark, knowing he'd get claustrophobic. So he stumbles behind the Phantom, and eventually they emerge into a space that's less dark. It looks like a warehouse, probably one of the several in the Opera house. Without a word the Phantom steps back and the wall closes between them. Sauli pounds at the wall, tries to find the edges of a door with his fingers, but he can't.

\---

The next day he calls for the Phantom and tries to unsuccessfully open the mirror door in his dressing room. Possibly he could break the mirror, but it would get him and definitely the Phantom in trouble. Besides, it seems that the Phantom really doesn't want to see him. Why would Sauli want to force him, if the Phantom hates the idea of seeing him that much?

Nonetheless, he talks aloud occasionally, saying he's sorry for trying to remove the mask, saying the Phantom is stupidly hot-headed, overdramatic and stubborn, too wrapped up in his own woes, whatever they are.

He goes to Madame Giry.

”You sent my daughter to me,” the Madame says dryly. ”I didn't tell her, but since it's now obvious you're... _Favoured_ by someone, I'll agree to tell you some things that I know. For your ears only.”

Madame Giry glances around her and sighs.

”I don't know much about _him_. He told me a little in the beginning, but that's all. I've hardly talked to him directly for a couple of years. I know he wasted his early twenties going from one audition to another, trying to get parts. For some reason it never worked out. But he's a musical genius, truly. It's a travesty the world doesn't get to hear his voice. Penniless and bitter, he found his way here. The old manager didn't hire him as a singer either, but he saw his Opera compositions. They were incomplete, but he saw their brilliance. In exchange for writing music and agreeing not to claim any credit, the Phantom, as he's now called, got to take over the unused parts of the Opera house and draw a salary. So in a way he still gets to create music. You're not even the first one he's mentored; actors and other dancers over the years have whispered to me about a ghost giving them tips.”

”But the operas... They're all composed by him?” he asks, stunned. He's studied all the operas they've done here, and most of the time they've been by different composers. ”If it's true, then it's outrageous that he doesn't get any credit.”

”Well. As long as everyone is happy and no problems are caused. The new managers naturally complicate things, but I've been told the old manager has explained things and made sure the arrangement continues as before. I'm sure they'll have nothing against getting spectacular operas for a price that's not very high. And you, keep your mouth shut. The Phantom has deliberately aided in creating a myth of an Opera ghost, and only a few people know he's a real person. It should stay like that.” 

The thing is, Sauli doesn't think the Phantom is happy. At all. A happy person wouldn't choose to live like that. The Phantom is quite the opposite of happiness, gloomy and bitter, easily irritated.

\---

The luncheon where he's agreed to meet Raoul is a new invention by the managers André and Firmin: an event for patrons and friends of the opera—basically a chance to entice them to donate more money. Sauli would have attended it anyway, but he had also been strongly encouraged to do so. Meeting the Opera's actors and dancers is another way to get donors invested in the Opera.

He arrives late, having had trouble in finding all the pieces of his outfit. He knew he should look impeccable, so he's dressed accordingly in quite tight-fitting black trousers, a very dark grey frock coat, cinched at the waist, a lighter grey waistcoat and a blue satin necktie. The luncheon is held on a garden terrace and the weather is lovely for it: the sun is shining but it's not too hot. Nearly everyone is already seated when he arrives. Raoul waves at him, pointing at an empty seat, so Sauli takes his place next to him.

”It's strange to see you dressed normally,” Raoul says. ”I quite liked the skimpy outfit.”

It's not really funny or charming, but Sauli chuckles anyway. He leads the conversation into their childhood, and it's actually fun to remember all the stupid things they used to do, goofing around. When they giggle about it, he gets glimpses of the old Raoul, although Raoul also seems different from what he remembered. It might come from becoming a vicomte. A certain air of pretentiousness and self-importance. But perhaps in private Raoul would be more like his old self.

Raoul is definitely trying to hit on him, though. Being a vicomte, he'll definitely get a wife at some point, but maybe he's looking for a lover.

After they've eaten, people start getting up to mingle with each other.

”It makes me sad, but I have to leave you know,” Raoul says. ”To talk some boring business matters. I would really love to continue talking with you. I'll come find you at the Opera.”

Left alone, Sauli spots a friend of his who runs a café-chantant, an establishment which offers food along with music and singing.

”Hello, Cristal,” he says and exchanges kisses. ”Lovely to see you.”

”Lovely to see you, darling, and I'm sorry I missed the opening night. You're such a superstar now.” Cristal intercepts a waiter and gets a digestif for both of them, a glass of cognac. ”This is an interesting mix of people, no? Rich patrons, socialites and popular faces. I saw you talking to the Vicomte of Chagny earlier—I think you've said you used to know him? My, my, he was eyeing at you.”

Cristal really knows everyone, at least by name if not personally. It comes with the territory of owning a famous café. Sauli has no time to think of a reply before Cristal prattles on, looking at somewhere behind Sauli.

”There's a figure we haven't seen in a while. Wonder what's lured him here now? He comes to the café sometimes, usually accompanied by some beau. 6 o'clock.”

Sauli pretends to look around the room lazily so as not to give away that Cristal has told him to look at someone particular. He spots a man directly behind him whom Cristal must have meant, but he lets his gaze slide over the man and turns back to Cristal.

”You're giving me a blank stare. That's Adam Lambért. There's so much gossip about him that most of it might not even be true. I heard someone say he's not actually rich, despite his appearance, but he gets money from his lovers. Actually, I've heard he likes dancers, so you'd better watch out. Or not?” Cristal says, eyebrows raised. ”I don't think anyone would mind Madame Lambért's attentions.”

”Madame, really?”

”I'm not making fun of him!” Cristal says so loudly that Sauli hisses. ”He embraces it. He's a total sweetheart. I just can't believe you haven't heard of him.”

”Well, I don't—”

”Yes, that's right, I know. Different circles. You tend to go out with the Opera girls. Well, if you frequented cafés and bars with Bohemians and artists from Montmartre, you would have heard of him. He comes and goes, always a breath of fresh air. Come, I'll introduce you.”

Sauli turns around and watches as Cristal greets the man. Then he's introduced to Mr Lambért, and they incline their heads at each other.

”Adam, please. Everyone calls me Adam. Unless they're calling me Madame.” A short giggle follows. He must have heard Cristal's comments.

”Then feel free to call me Sauli.”

Adam looks at him with a bright smile. He's taller than Sauli, shaved almost clean except there's a barely noticeable stubble over his cheeks and upper lip. Dark hair brushed back, light blue eyes, or maybe even green when the sunlight catches them right. Adam is squinting his eyes, though, maybe because of the bright light, or maybe he just does that when smiling.

Adam's appearance gives a hint of why he might be called Madame. He's wearing makeup, dark eyeshadow and perhaps some foundation on his skin, although in the bright light Sauli can spot some freckles. Even on the lips. Adam's frock coat is very light khaki, almost bone white. It's not terribly uncommon, but enough that it makes him stand out from the rest of the men, who are wearing mostly dark-coloured coats. The waistcoat underneath has alternating horizontal stripes of pink and a floral pattern against a cream background. The trousers are dark brown, ankle-length boots likewise. Adam Lambért is a very attractive man.

”Oh!” Cristal says, staring in the distance. ”I have just spotted a friend of mine. Excuse me, gents. I'll catch with you later.”

It sounds so fake that Sauli can't help but grin at Adam, who grins back.

”I adore Cristal,” Adam says. ”Always introducing people and trying to create connections.”

”Yes, and always so smoothly,” Sauli says with a laugh. ”I take it you like opera since you're here?”

”Very much!”

”Do you sing yourself?” he asks, taking a sip of the cognac.

”Oh no, I never sing. Everyone would run away screaming, my voice is like a crow's.” Adam lets out an actual imitation of a crow and then giggles at himself.

It's stupidly charming, but Sauli finds it hard to believe Adam's voice would be quite as terrible as he describes. He has a lovely speaking voice, kind of high but really melodic and pleasant. Sauli gets the sense that Adam is someone who's able to imitate sounds really well. Probably good at languages, too. Sauli himself has always had trouble getting rid of the accent of his native language Finnish, the language of his parents that he spoke more frequently as a child. In the Opera he's not very bothered about it, though, since there are lots of foreigners and non-native French working there.

”You could play a crow, then. Or some other animal. After Hannibal we have a ballet coming up that has animal roles in it.”

”Oh, is that why there are so many ballet girls present?” Adam asks, glancing at the crowd.

”Indeed. It's already being marketed. In more ways than one.”

Adam gives him a searching look. ”The men?”

He nods, looking at how men from young to old are pairing up with the girls. He feels sorry for the girls, many of whom are his friends. So vulnerable to exploitation, getting continuous propositions from men and often having to take on a patron to support them financially, entering a relationship that is clear sexual exploitation. Even though Sauli gets propositions himself, fortunately he's never struggled very hard financially, and now he's managed to advance his career without having to rely on a patron's help.

”Do they bother you?” Adam asks softly.

”Not as much, but me and the other guys do get our share as well. Sometimes it's more aggressive than with the girls. Not during operas, but even if I get to dance more at our ballets, one reason why I'm not looking forward to them is that the male subscribers enter the foyer to ogle at dancers.”

The foyer de la danse, or a room backstage where the dancers warm up and practice before and during the shows. Subscribers to the Opera get to come there to socialize, and in truth it's a veritable meat market.

He's not sure why he's telling all this to Adam, something that shouldn't really be talked about. But he knows Adam is not one of those men. Certainly not a man who would ogle at women, and Sauli is sure Adam wouldn't do that to men either. Even if Cristal said Adam has a lot of company, many of them male dancers, he seems like a genuinely sweet man and not some lecher.

Someone bumps into Adam's back, and Adam takes a step closer.

”Maybe I should become a subscriber myself. You would have a friend there to talk to, helping you avoid all the men following you.”

”Maybe you should,” he says quietly, instantly regretting it a little. He shouldn't encourage Adam. He has no intention of becoming just one in a long line of other dancers, another conquest. Besides, there's other unfinished business...

”I've been wanting to meet you. Your eyes, in this light...” Adam says with awe in his voice, staring at him.

The intense stare is making Sauli feel almost disoriented suddenly. Something about the intensity in those eyes makes his heart jump and then start racing. It's so like... But no. They're so different, the Phantom like darkness and Adam light itself.

Adam smiles and leans back a little. ”They're very blue.” Then he gives a self-deprecating laugh. ”I'm being so original, right? _'Your eyes are so blue,'_ ” Adam says in a comically breathless and husky voice. ”Like you haven't been told that a thousand times.”

Sauli bursts into giggles but doesn't say anything, brushing his hair off his face and glancing away.

”Look!” He grabs hold of Adam's arm. ”A dog!”

It's a brown midsized terrier, circling around people and sniffing them, but then spotting Sauli and heading straight towards him. The dog is dragging a leash behind him.

”Hi, buddy!” Sauli says crouching down to pet and kiss the dog. ”Are you lost? You're a good boy. Is he a boy?”

Adam crouches down, too. ”I think it's a girl.”

”You're the best girl, yes you are.”

They pet the dog together, the dog wriggling with joy. There are several golden rings on Adam's fingers. It gives Sauli a strange fluttering feeling every time their hands stray close to each other's, but it makes him sad, too. Makes him miss a certain dark figure who's shut him away.


	5. Chapter 5

Some days later Sauli is sitting in solitude up in the flies after the show is over. There's a narrow bridge, a catwalk for technicians to access whatever they might need to fix in the rigging system. It's a favourite spot of his, to sit there dangling his legs and look at what's happening below. There's only a few people at this hour, cleaning and getting the stage ready for tomorrow.

”Sauli.”

There's a dark figure to his left on the bridge.

”I thought you'd left me,” he says and looks back at the stage.

”I'm sorry. I've always been here.”

They stay in silence for a while.

”Why don't you sing publicly?” he asks. ”Why don't you take credit for your own work?”

The Phantom scoffs. ”They didn't want me as myself, so I'm doing it like this.”

”No one wanted to hire you?”

”No. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the voice, they said. It was everything else,” the Phantom says, sneering. ”They said I wouldn't appeal to the audiences, that I would drive people away. I wasn't palatable. I offered to make changes, but no. No one wanted to take the risk.”

”That sounds awful, getting rejected for who you are,” he says quietly, not sure he understands exactly what it is that would have caused such rejection, but feeling sorry. ”But what about the compositions? I heard you've written all the operas here for years.”

”Yes, I'm aware Madame Giry has been blabbing. It's complicated. I'm not good at working solely on my own. My original ideas get sent off to other composers, who add suggestions, and then the music comes back to me. It goes back and forth like that. I guess whoever has worked the most on it besides me gets the credit. It looks better if there's only one composer.” The Phantom's low voice sounds so cynical.

”But that's bullshit, since you're still the main composer.”

”Well, that's the deal I have, and it's the only way I can participate in the musical world. By writing music anonymously and sometimes mentoring singers, since I wasn't accepted as my own self.” The Phantom gives out a hollow laugh. ”When I hate what they've done with my operas, I sabotage the productions.”

So that's what it is. The Phantom reminding of his presence and making his opinions known. Maybe it's also an outlet for the frustrations.

”I get my revenge another way, too,” the Phantom says. ”Sometimes I write only very thinly veiled undertones of the type of proclivities and relationships that would shock the general audience.”

Oh, the undertones. He's noticed those, although he's not sure if the audiences have.

Sauli takes hold of a railing and gathers some courage.

”I still don't think you should become bitter at humanity because of certain people's prejudices and the way they've treated you. You just have to move on and try again until you succeed.” He knows it's not what someone who's been wronged wants to hear.

The silence is indeed icy. He already knows the Phantom is about to leave him, when someone shouts from below.

”Who are you talking to?”

When he looks to his left again, the Phantom is gone.

\---

The next evening he calls for the Phantom once before the performance, but doesn't try again when he's met by silence. He's pretty sure the Phantom is watching the opera, though. Afterwards Sauli goes through his usual post-show ritual of wetting a washcloth and wiping the sweat off his skin while dressed in his underwear.

Usually he does it quickly, without thinking. This time, however, he moves the washcloth along his skin slowly. Having had some champagne after the show could have something to do with it. He's going methodically through every part of his body, standing in front of the mirror and bending over to wipe his legs. Many times before he's dressed down to his underwear while changing at the Opera, but unlike ever before, now he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and slowly, slowly pushes them down until they drop. He studies his reflection, tanned skin and firm muscles, short curly hairs of his groin, his balls and the soft cock resting over them.

There's a heavy feeling in his groin, and as he stands there watching, he starts getting hard without touching himself. Blood gathering down there, making his cock fill out.

He knows the Phantom is watching. He _hopes_ the Phantom is watching. Surely he must be? The thought makes him close his eyes and tilt his head back, mouth open, his cock twitching hard as the arousal is making it stand up.

If the Phantom is watching, then he must know that Sauli is aware he could be watched. That Sauli is doing this deliberately. He imagines the Phantom behind a wall, with a raging hard-on, dying of lust while looking at Sauli but trying his best to stay quiet. Even if the Phantom is there, Sauli knows he's hardly going to say anything, still sulking. Just thinking about the Phantom watching him makes him widen his stance, a twinge of arousal making him squeeze his hands into fists, wanting to touch himself so badly but resisting it. He lets out a gasp, and his lips form the word 'Angel' soundlessly.

Enough. Having now gone from soft to hard in front of the mirror, he bends over slowly, exhibiting his flexibility, arching his back a little and tilting his ass up. As he straightens back up, he pulls his underwear up over his hard length. As if nothing unusual is going on, he puts his trousers on, and the shirt and the coat he wears for the short journey home. After taking his leather bag he leaves, closing the door behind him with a bang and barely able to hold back a grin.

\---

It's time for the weekly luncheon the next day, and there Sauli meets Adam again.

”Have you seen Raoul?” he asks while hesitantly taking a seat next to Adam. ”The Vicomte of Chagny, I mean.”

”No, I haven't. Did you want to sit next to him?” Adam asks smiling. ”I can help if you want to try to find him.”

”No, that's alright. The last time I saw him at the Opera, he just said he had some old drawings to show me that his mother had kept. From our childhood.” Maybe he also feels weirdly like he's expected to sit next to Raoul, just because he did so previously, but he can sit wherever, right? And Raoul is nowhere to be seen.

”Were you two childhood sweethearts?”

He gets a bit flustered. ”Oh no, not childhood sweethearts. Just friends at that point. It took several years before I... Before I knew what I wanted. But we spent two summers constantly in each other's company.”

”That sounds lovely,” Adam says.

”It's kind of funny to see him as a Vicomte now. Of course, back then I was well aware we belonged to different social classes, but it's funny that he's now a Vicomte and I'm just a dancer.”

”You're not _just_ anything. What you do is art. And I think you should follow your heart and not give class differences too much thought.”

Adam sounds like he thinks Sauli has hopes about Raoul and needs encouragement. He's smiling so sweetly, and Sauli almost opens his mouth to explain. But then, maybe it's best to let Adam think that. Because Sauli is not going to have anything to do with Adam, right? Let Adam hit on some other dancer.

”Did you find the dog's owner?” he asks. A rapid change of subject is best. While they start eating, he learns that Adam had. The dog didn't belong to anyone at the luncheon, so Sauli and Adam had gone for a walk with the dog in a nearby park, hoping the owner would come looking for the dog there. Eventually Sauli had been forced to leave to the Opera, however. Apparently the owner had shown up not long after.

”That's wonderful, although I was hoping you could adopt the dog.”

Adam laughs, throwing his head back. ”Aww. I love dogs, but my lifestyle really doesn't allow them.”

”Does your occupation make you travel a lot?”

”Oh, I move about. Dabble in this and that. I just can't offer suitable conditions for a dog,” Adam says, pouting his lips and then giggling.

Their talk inevitably turns to the Opera.

Adam tells he's seen the current production, but while Sauli's dancing in it is flawless in Adam's opinion, he doesn't think highly of the opera itself.

”What about this infamous ghost, then?” Adam asks, raising his eyebrows. ”Have you met him yet?”

”I might have.”

”I know Madame Giry, so I've heard things. I heard this 'Phantom' is actually some good-for-nothing who's failed in life. Cowering in his lair and raging at people. Quite pathetic, if you ask me.”

It's uncharacteristic of Adam. Of course, Sauli doesn't know him well yet, but last time they had talked for such a long time that it had felt like he'd got a good idea of Adam's personality. Adam didn't have a bad word to say of anyone.

”I don't know the details of his life, but based on his art I think he's magnificent. A genius. He's shown me nothing but kindness, and that's more important than fame and success.”

Alright, maybe the Phantom hasn't _always_ been _that_ kind to him, but the urge to defend him is strong.

Adam is staring at him, hand paused in mid-air holding a fork.

”I'm sorry,” Adam finally says lowering his hand. ”I didn't mean to upset you.”

So far that's the only thing about Adam that has annoyed him. It's funny that he suddenly has three so different men in his life. The Phantom and Adam, who are like night and day, and Raoul of course, who's still a bit of an enigma.

Later they move to sit on a bench in shade, holding drinks. The day is quite warm. Adam is wearing a deep blue frock coat this time, and Sauli finds himself staring at a drop of sweat sliding down Adam's temple. At least until Adam glances at him, at which point he looks away.

”Despite what people might have said about me... I haven't actually had that many lovers. I'm not that much of a player,” Adam says quietly.

Oh, damn.

”Alright, but why are you telling me this? I have no interest in your love life. Are you coming onto me? Because if you are, I can tell you that you're not my type at all.”

Adam turns his body towards Sauli, placing one arm on the backrest of the bench. He's smiling slightly, but there's a strange glint in his eyes.

Sauli swallows involuntarily, wondering if Adam can see through the lie.

”Not your type?” Adam asks quietly, leaning closer. ”So someone like me could never make your blood boil? Pray tell me, then. What is your type?”

His blood _is_ boiling, or at least simmering. God, he feels so conflicted about Adam. What's it to him anyway whether or not Adam has had hundreds of lovers? He's almost angry, mostly at himself, because Adam is making him feel something. Even though he also has feelings for another.

When Adam gets no answer, he thankfully leans back.

”I'm sorry, again. If you have no interest in me, I understand and accept that.”

He's going to leave now, isn't he? Get up and find another young dancer.

”Friends?” Adam says smiling and sitting back comfortably. ”Can I at least be your friend?”

”Sauli! I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier.” It's Raoul, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and carrying a folder.

”Don't worry about it!” he says to Raoul before turning back to Adam. ”Yes, let's be friends.”

”Making new friends?” Raoul asks, hand brushing Sauli's shoulder as he gives him the folder. "Lambért, right?"

Adam stands up and Sauli makes the introductions, after which Adam says he'll let them reminiscence in peace, smiling with his pearly-white teeth. Then he's gone.


	6. Chapter 6

”You seem to have many admirers.”

”Hello, Angel,” Sauli says while in a split stretch on the floor of his dressing room before the show.

”Who do you like? The Vicomte? I hear Mr Lambért failed. Mr Goodness itself,” the Phantom says in a mocking voice. ”Always so nice. He can't challenge anyone, never says what he really thinks. Accepts whatever happens to him, trying to please everyone. Couldn't please you.”

Has Cristal been gossiping? The Phantom has better contacts to the outside world than he's thought. At the luncheon Cristal had remarked that to an onlooker it really had looked like Sauli had rejected Adam, Raoul taking his place.

”I don't know how you get your information, but it's my business who I choose as my friends. The Vicomte is an old friend whom I'm trying to get to know again, and Mr Lambért is a lovely person. Although he wasn't very nice to you. I didn't like that."

It shuts the Phantom up.

Sauli continues stretching, and after a while he hears the Phantom clear his throat. Why is it cute that the Phantom is letting him know he's still there?

”Can you sing me the song you were singing before I fainted that night? I don't think I heard the ending.”

Thinking about that night makes him miss the Phantom acutely. Hearing the voice isn't enough, but it's all he has for now. The Phantom starts singing, a little hesitantly at first but his voice gaining confidence. The song is beautiful, even more so than he remembered. He says as much.

They're silent again, Sauli changing from one position to another.

”Did you enjoy the show?” he asks. He's not talking about opera. ”It was for you.”

” _Sauli_.” The Phantom sounds short of breath.

”I was thinking about you.”

”Don't, damn you.”

”I went home and I touched myself for ages. What a shame I don't have a lover to touch.”

”Stop!” It's a really anguished command now.

Sauli gets on his elbows and knees, spreading his legs as wide as he can and then pressing his hips down.

” _What are you doing?!”_

”This is a hip opener. Have you never seen a dancer stretch?”

He hears a faint thump, no doubt someone hitting the wall on the other side.

”Come here,” he says.

”No, I can't. I'm bad for you. I should only admire you from afar. My muse... I'll ruin you, I'm too messed up when I'm like this. I don't believe you could really want me like this. If only you had chosen the other one...”

This is the strangest bout of rambling yet.

”You're so strange,” he says with a deep sigh, making the Phantom laugh humourlessly.

”Stranger than you could dream.”

\---

Performances of Hannibal come to an end. At the same time Sauli has been busy practicing for the ballet Scheherazade, in which his role is obviously bigger than in the opera. Funnily enough the slave theme continues, though. He plays the Golden Slave, who seduces one of the wives of the Shah. The entire production is heavily influenced by Orientalism, the name Scheherazade from the storyteller in One Thousand and One Nights.

Prior to the first performance, Sauli is warming up backstage, having successfully avoided a patron who tried to approach him, when an abnormally loud voice interrupts the usual chatter of audience getting into their seats.

” _Why was Box Five not kept empty for me?”_

The voice is menacing and chilly, so loud that it must be amplified by some manner. The audience falls silent. People backstage are looking alarmed, glancing at each other or getting pale. Even though Sauli knows the Phantom, fear spreads easily and it makes even him feel nervous for a second. He sees manager Firmin walk towards Madame Giry.

”For ballets, too? I didn't know! It would have meant so many unsold seats.”

Sauli can't hear any more than that, Mr Firmin lowering his voice. After a while people start murmuring and laughing nervously, the chatter of the audience returning.

Despite the early interruption, the show itself starts fine, Sauli setting an example with his unconcerned and focused behaviour.

Mid-show Sauli returns to the foyer de la danse. Immediately several men turn towards him, looking at him openly from head to toe. Obviously he's caught their attention. Then he spots Adam among the men, and ignoring the stares goes to Adam.

”I didn't know you were here,” he says, so delighted that he's grinning. ”Are you a subscriber now?”

”Yes, and I arrived barely in time. You're _golden_.”

”Oh, yes,” Sauli laughs. ”They painted me gold.” His upper body is indeed painted with subtle golden body paint. It had been a last minute decision. He's wearing a bit more clothing than in the opera, loose harem trousers and a sleeveless ornamental top that covers only his chest, leaving his stomach bare. The shoulder straps are strings of pearls, and more pearls are hanging from the hem. He's wearing a small golden turban on his head. Pearl earrings. Sauli knows the appearance is pretty androgynous, but in the ballet his movements are rather masculine.

”You left me speechless,” Adam says.

It makes him give an embarrassed laugh. He's pleased, though. The production is bold, not so much focused on classical ballet, but more on freedom of expression, full of sensuous body movement. It's bold in other ways, too, some scenes highly erotic.

Even though the orchestral music or choreography are not the Phantom's, the Phantom has still been instrumental in helping Sauli create the character.

”I was crying,” Adam says.

”Were you?” Adam's eyes are actually a little red.

”Your dance and the story... I'm a total cry-baby,” Adam says and giggles.

That is just too sweet. Sauli glances around, seeing that men are staring at and striking up conversations with the other dancers.

”I'm not sure it's a good idea to have people other than performers here during this production. Everyone seems kind of... Worked up.” The atmosphere of this particular ballet is so heightened that it looks like men are getting even more aggressive than usual.

”I agree. I hope no one bothers you.”

”If some old pervert approached me on the street and started groping me, I'd punch him in the face. It would be easy to deal with. I used to do boxing and other sports before they were denied for me lest I get injured. Here it's more difficult, you can't really do anything even if you don't like the attention.”

He sees a couple of men glance at him, and a shiver goes through him because they're not men he would ever approach himself.

”But I'm more worried for my friends,” he says. ”Can I tell them they can come to you, if they get tired of the constant attention?”

”Of course you can. I'll take care of them.”

During a latter part of the show when Sauli doesn't need to be on stage, Adam is in the foyer again, but so is Raoul.

Raoul keeps talking to him in such a quiet voice that Sauli has to continuously lean close. Adam is just standing away from them close to a wall, smiling whenever Sauli glances at him.

Obviously Adam had been interested in Sauli, and maybe still is. So how can he just stand there and accept everything calmly, even though he can clearly see that Raoul is flirting with Sauli? Adam seems to be always just _alright_ with everything, not putting up a fight. The Phantom's mocking words come back to Sauli. Adam is so accepting and laid-back. For some reason it frustrates him. If only Adam had a bit of spunk, like the Phantom. But then, Sauli remembers that he's not looking to have anything with Adam. Has rejected him, actually.

After the show Meg comes to him.

”Thanks for telling me about Mr Lambért,” she says. ”I went to have a chat with him after someone groped my backside. He was really sweet. I felt really safe with him, you know? And he's so _hot_. I bet you wish he was the Vicomte instead.”

”What do you mean?”

Meg gives him a look. ”You can't seriously tell me you don't think Mr Lambért is more appealing than Chagny. If Lambért was the rich and powerful one, wouldn't you choose him?”

”No, I'm—that's not how it is. And I haven't 'chosen' Raoul either. We're just friends. He hasn't asked me anything, although I do know he's flirting, of course. I should probably put a stop to it.”

”So why not take Lambért, then, if you don't want to become the Vicomte's lover? There could be some sizzling chemistry between you.”

”Because... I'm probably just one of many dancer boys he's liked.” That excuse sounds really lame to him now, but there's another more important reason. ”And because there's someone else...”

” _Oh_ , interesting. Well, that one has to be really gorgeous then to top even Mr Lambért. I wish you luck, sweetie.” Meg glances around to make sure her mother isn't looking, and kisses Sauli's cheek.

\---

Almost right away after the opening of Scheherazade there's a pause in the performances. Not because of any weak success, but just because coincidentally there are several free days. On Sunday they only perform a matinée, and Sunday and Monday evenings are off. Then it happens to be the 14th of July, which is a public holiday. When Sauli returns to work after that, he's turned away at the door of Opéra Garnier and told there's just been an accident. A fire had broken out, but while it didn't cause any major destruction, so much smoke remained that the evening show had been cancelled, so the Opera house could be aired out.

It's a little worrying, but there's no mention of anyone getting hurt. Well, he's had a relaxing few days going to the countryside to see his mother, without even mentioning it to Raoul or Adam. Now he spends an extra free day in parks. All very relaxing. So relaxing that he's had time to think about nothing but how much he misses the Phantom, how pissed off he's getting at the way he's being avoided and toyed with.

The next day the Opera is still in uproar. Fires are obviously scary, and everyone is still talking about it. Apparently it hadn't got very far. Only one corner of a storage room had been blackened, but the smoking had been heavy.

”I stopped the fire!” Mr André is repeating to everyone. ”It was an attempt at arson, I'm sure of it. The Phantom's revenge for not having his Box available to him. The Ghost has gone too far, now he's trying to burn down the entire building!”

There's some muttering and nodding going around, but many people are also sharing disbelieving looks. It feels weird that any ghost, real or not, would try to destroy its own residence. Eventually people return to their tasks.

The Phantom doesn't answer to him before the show. Adam isn't present at the show either, but Raoul is, so Sauli doesn't have to entertain any old perverts during breaks.

”Sauli, I've been wanting to speak to you,” Raoul says. ”I missed you when I didn't see you for so many days. I'm not good at expressing my thoughts in conversation, but will you let me write a letter to you?”

He wishes he could say no, but it would be so impolite if Raoul wants to say something he can't say verbally.

”Of course, if there's something on your mind. I'll read it.”

After the show Sauli gets cleaned up and dresses. He's bending over to tie his ankle boots, when a cool draft of air hits the back of his hand. That's weird. There are no windows in the room and the door is shut, except... The mirror door is ajar. Just slightly, the corner of a carpet caught between it. With his heart pounding Sauli pushes his fingers into the gap and pulls the door open. For the first time he can actually go find the Phantom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some artistic license: A ballet version of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade premiered at the Opéra Garnier in 1910 and not in 1881 when PotO is set. The role of the Golden Slave was performed by Vaslav Nijinsky, who was a gay ballet dancer, said to be the greatest male dancer of the early 20th century. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut in this one is kinda smut-heavy, jsyk. ._.

The corridor is dark, so Sauli takes an oil lamp with him as he goes, closing the door carefully behind him. His arm brushes against a wall, and in the light of the lamp he notices his white shirt now has a black stripe. His waistcoat and coat have been left behind and he's dressed only in shirtsleeves. The walk feels longer now that he's alone. At first there's only silence, but then he hears a short burst of a piano being played, faint and coming from a distance. So the Phantom is at home and not lurking somewhere else in the Opera house.

Sauli reaches the lake. _Yes_ , the boat is there. He'd been wondering whether he'd have to choose between yelling his voice hoarse or swimming. Even though Sauli has a dancer's balance, maybe this is not the best time to attempt standing at the stern like the Phantom had. So even if it looks unelegant, he sits down safely and pushes awkwardly with the long oar. Progress along the misty waters is slower than last time, but at least he won't show up at the lair looking like a drowned rat.

After several turns he finally he sees light, but he also sees an iron gate. Fantastic. He'd forgotten about it. Trying to find the mechanism would alert the Phantom in any case, so he might as well make his presence known.

”Will you let me through now that I'm here?” he shouts.

There's a sound like someone's hand slipping on piano keys.

The Phantom appears, masked and without a cape but otherwise clothed.

”What the hell do you think you're doing?!” the Phantom roars.

”What does it look like? You left the door open. If you don't let me through, I'll just sit here in the boat for the rest of my life.”

Cursing, the Phantom pulls at something and opens the gate from his side. Sauli pushes the boat into shore and steps out. Meanwhile the Phantom has retreated to pace between his desk and the piano.

”Come to blame me for the fire?” the Phantom snaps.

Up close Sauli drinks in the sight of him, the tall figure clad in black; the dark beard, although a bit shorter than before; shiny hair a bit fluffy and messy, little tufts of hair sticking up.

One thing is amiss, though.

”What's wrong with your arm?” he asks. The sleeve of the Phantom's right arm is rolled up and there's a bandage wrapped around his wrist, no gloves on his hands this time.

”It got burned,” the Phantom says blankly.

”Did _you_ stop the fire?”

The Phantom's eyes widen and his body tenses. Then he turns around sharply and hits his fist against the desk, the right one, so probably the arm doesn't hurt anymore. The Phantom's shoulders are rising and falling from how heavily he's breathing.

”No one deserves you,” the Phantom mutters.

Regardless of how the Phantom presents himself, acting as this dark, gloomy and dangerous figure, he's vulnerable. Emotional.

Sauli circles around to face the Phantom, the desk between them.

”Angel.”

He looks at the man, studying what's visible of him. Candlelight is so flattering to everyone, and the Phantom's skin above his beard looks so smooth and even, lips soft and full. Sauli lets his eyes slide slowly down, unable to resist looking at the covered body and imagining what's underneath, letting his eyes drop down all the way to the Phantom's crotch. The black fabric of the trousers moves when the Phantom shifts his stance a little, hinting of a bulge there. Maybe Sauli is no better than the vulgar patrons of the Opera, who look at him lustfully like they own him. But this is mutual desire—he knows it. And any time the Phantom feels like he doesn't want to be looked like this, he can just say it. Arousal is pooling low in his gut, making his legs feel weak. He drags his eyes back up, a low _uh_ sound escaping his throat when he sees the way the Phantom is looking at him.

It almost doesn't even matter what the Phantom looks like. Sauli doesn't want him because of a hypothetical pretty face, a muscled abdomen, or how hung he might be. It's not a question of liking an x or y body part or attribute. He just wants the _Phantom_ , all that he is, body and soul. It's scary and thrilling as hell.

Sauli starts unbuttoning his shirt.

”What—”

”Sshh.”

Buttons opened all the way, Sauli pulls the shirt-tails from the waistband of his trousers and lets the shirt hang open. A few careful steps bring him around the desk so he's standing between it and the Phantom.

”Kiss me,” he says.

”I can't.”

”Kiss me.” He takes the Phantom's hand in his, waiting for it to be pulled back, but when the Phantom doesn't resist, he starts pressing kisses on the bandage and along the fingers.

”Why are you—I can't,” the Phantom says, grabbing his own hair with his free hand. He's not saying no, though, or pulling the hand back, so Sauli doesn't stop. It feels like the Phantom's resistance is very feeble, like he's trying to convince himself that he shouldn't touch Sauli, but at the same time yearning for it, visibly shivering from the brush of Sauli's lips against his fingers.

The Phantom's eyes fall closed for a second, but since he makes no move to push Sauli away or get away himself, Sauli takes hold of the Phantom's head and gently guides it towards his.

”I can't, I—ah— _ah_.”

The porcelain feels cool against his skin as he brushes his nose against the mask's, but in contrast the lips are warm and soft when he gives them a quick nibble with his own. And another, tasting them with his tongue.

It opens the floodgates, the Phantom claiming his lips, tongue brushing against his and slipping between his lips, kissing them again and again. Sauli pushes his body against the Phantom's, but he's pulled, too, hands going under his shirt to touch his back and pull him tight against the Phantom. The resistance crumbles and the Phantom's touch is eager, possessive. Their bodies are restless, rubbing against each other's, hands shifting from one place to another.

Sauli was afraid the Phantom would bolt. Or remain unresponsive to his kisses. But even if the Phantom was hesitant to start, that's gone now. Their lips are pressed hotly together, the tongue sliding inside his mouth making him _ache,_ a hot pressure in his groin. The erection pressing against him is driving him mad, a hard column inside the Phantom's trousers, and damn if he isn't rubbing against like he's in heat.

Then hands grab his buttocks, and they both groan when the Phantom squeezes and rubs. Sauli tears his mouth away, staring into dark and dilated eyes behind the mask while undulating his hips against the Phantom.

Not giving a damn about the fate of the Phantom's clothes, Sauli starts tearing them open. He grabs hold of the waistcoat and rips it open, buttons flying, revealing a white shirt underneath.

The Phantom groans hard and Sauli gets pushed against the desk, lifted to sit on top of it, the Phantom standing between his spread legs with such pure hunger in his eyes. The shirt goes next, Sauli tearing it open and exposing a swathe of a naked chest. Up until now the Phantom has always been covered from neck to toe, only his hands and the lower part of his face visible. Sauli is vaguely aware that he's moaning before he presses his open mouth against the Phantom's chest, dragging his tongue along the hairy skin. The shape of those pectoral muscles with the pink nipples on them is shockingly pleasing, and he cups them with his hands. Squeezing slightly and letting the sensitive skin of his palms rub against the hard nubs. If the gesture feels to the Phantom like it's too much like something to be done to a woman, he doesn't show it, instead breathing heavily and looking at Sauli with his mouth slightly open.

After brushing the skin with his thumbs for a while he leans in to bite and kiss it again, glancing up and seeing the Phantom has now thrown his head back. It makes him groan against the skin and kiss it harder, tear the shirt open more so he can access more of the wonderfully fragrant skin. The Phantom is so solid and warm, so human that it's hard to comprehend.

Sauli's legs are hooked behind the Phantom's, trapping him there. He starts trying to push the frock coat off the Phantom's shoulders, but struggles until finally the Phantom helps him and removes the coat.

There's a blowing sound and lights dim slightly. The Phantom has blown off the candles on the desk, but there's still illumination coming from nearby standing candelabra. With one wide sweep of the Phantom's arm, all items on the desk are swept on the floor and Sauli is pressed against the desk, arms stretched over his head and held there by the Phantom's hands. He lifts his legs up in the air, wrapping them loosely around the Phantom.

”Oh, please,” he moans when the Phantom pushes his hips against Sauli's crotch and grinds there, heated lengths pressing against each other. ”Angel,” he says, followed by a mix of his laughter and moans as the Phantom grinds against him. 'Angel' doesn't go particularly well with an act that's more sinful than angelic, but sinful in a delicious way, not shameful. He doesn't feel any shame for wanting a man in this way. Hopefully the Phantom doesn't either.

Sauli feels beautifully helpless as his hands are held captive, the Phantom leaning over him and hips gyrating with such a flexible, rolling movement that it's blowing his mind a little, a complete surprise that the Phantom would be able to move like that. The hard cock presses against his just so, and then the Phantom drags it slowly over his, pressing so teasingly.

” _Fuck,”_ he utters, not finding any other word to describe the sweet torture, using a word so vulgar that it's more suitable to men of the army and navy.

”Yes,” the Phantom whispers in a low voice, then leaning down to attack Sauli's chest. Hungry kisses are sucked on his skin and then they're kissing again. Sauli frees his hands from the grip, and the desire to rip the mask off is strong, but it would likely ruin things, and he wants this. From then on it's a flurry of hands and lips, touching and biting and kissing everywhere. Sauli buries his fingers in the Phantom's hair, feeling how very soft it is. His fingers encounter a band which must hold the mask in place, and the Phantom definitely reacts when he touches it, so he moves his hands away swiftly.

Instead he slides them lower, pressing his palms against the Phantom's shirt-covered back and lower, cupping the hips between his hands and then exploringly stroking over the curve of a backside. It's... The trousers need to go.

While responding to the Phantom's continuous kisses, Sauli slides his hands between their bodies and tries to open the Phantom's trousers. It's kind of ineffective, the heavy body pressed tight against him, but after a while the Phantom gives a low chuckle against his lips and lifts his hips enough to open the fastening himself before nudging his hips against Sauli again, burying his head in Sauli's neck to kiss it wetly.

With effort Sauli tries to push the trousers over that ass while the Phantom's upper body is lying on top of him, finally managing enough that he can grab some bare skin. The Phantom has been hiding this thickness under the black frock coat, the cut of the coat not really giving away any shapes underneath. He squeezes it repeatedly, feeling how a drop of wetness flows from his cock.

Even though Sauli has been in bed with men and had very enjoyable sexual encounters, he's pretty sure he's never felt such carnal desire before. The urgency is ridiculous, both of them panting loudly and trying to touch everywhere at once. They roll on their sides a little, Sauli's leg wrapped around the Phantom and not even caring about the hard surface of the desk. He kisses and licks wherever he can reach: the neck, the chest, even the underarm when the Phantom happens to lift his arm, earning a surprised groan.

The Phantom gets back on his feet, standing between Sauli's legs. After having been hard inside his trousers for what feels like ages, Sauli's trousers are finally getting pulled off. Although, the Phantom is pulling them down ever so slowly, like he's opening a gift-wrapped present, and Sauli wants to laugh and groan at the same time.

”It's not like it's a surprise what's underneath,” he says.

The Phantom makes a strangled sound and coughs, as if trying to suppress a laugh, and then pulls the trousers off swiftly, biting Sauli's bare thigh so that he yelps. Then—oh, God, his cock is kissed, with tongue, up and down the length and over his balls. Not concentrating on the head as much as he'd like, but the slick tongue and the soft-but-rough mustache feel heavenly against his heated skin.

”Sauli.”

He opens his eyes, which he hadn't realised he'd closed, and sees the Phantom looking at him with liquid eyes.

The Phantom makes an _unh_ -sound and closes his own eyes briefly before repeating it, ” _Sauli_ ,” as if saying his name in the midst of this is too much. ”Turn around for me?” the Phantom says, stroking Sauli's thigh.

Alright, yes, he will. He gets off the desk and turns around.

”Wait, put these on it,” the Phantom says, handing him the black cape and the coat, then pillows from a chair. Sauli spreads the clothes on the desk and puts the pillows right on the edge so his hips can rest comfortably against them as he bends over, upper body resting against the desk.

Fully expecting to feel fingers between his butt cheeks—or getting right to it, a dribble of spit and then the penetration—he almost climbs on the desk when instead he feels the cool porcelain of the mask and a hot tongue giving a lick down there. The Phantom's hands spread his cheeks and hold him in place, tongue sliding in there and licking fast like he's desperate for it. It's _so_ naughty, but asking if the Phantom is sure he wants to do it feels more than a little belated, and Sauli isn't sure he could find words anyhow, moaning with outward breaths.

He twists his body on the desk, looking back at the Phantom's mask pressed against his ass, and not really seeing but feeling the tongue tease the skin that he never knew to be _that_ sensitive before. However, from this position he does see the way the Phantom's trousers are barely hanging on his hips.

”Take your trousers off,” Sauli says, definitely finding words for that, but surprised at the huskiness of his voice. The Phantom doesn't pause but pulls the trousers down with one hand, letting them and the underwear drop to his ankles.

”Oh. You're hung,” he says, looking at the hard-on that's jutting forward, flushed all rosy, large glans glistening. He'd thought so, based on what he felt pressed against him, but fuck.

There's no response, the Phantom now licking slowly and carefully with the flat of his tongue. Sauli grabs the edge of the desk, moaning every now and then and staring at the Phantom's hard cock standing up and twitching a little as the man licks.

It's too much, pleasure building in his groin, his hips moving restlessly.

”I'm going to—”

The Phantom pulls Sauli's hips back slightly, and he straightens his body, lying against the desk and biting the corner of a dark fabric, when the Phantom's hand slides between his legs to wrap around his cock. The hand pumps his length firmly until he blows his load, dimly realising he's coming over the Phantom's cape or coat.

”Alright?” the Phantom asks after a while when Sauli has just been lying against the desk, feeling small kisses being pressed over his buttocks.

”Water,” he says. The Phantom disappears briefly and returns with water, and wine, and a carafe of oil.

”I'm guessing that's not lamp oil.”

”No...” the Phantom says. Is he shy? ”If you want me in...”

”Come here, I want you,” he says, reaching for the naked man and wrapping his arms around the solid body. They kiss, but he's grinning into it.

”What?”

”You, naked with a mask on.”

He gets on the desk again, receiving wonderful attention to his groin from a hot mouth, oil-slicked fingers teasing his entrance. After a while he swats at the Phantom's fluffy hair gently but repeatedly until he's looked at.

”I want to touch you, too,” he says.

After having looked at it for so long earlier, he absolutely needs to touch it now. He makes the Phantom sit on the table, getting distracted by the way those thighs look when the muscles are relaxed by sitting down. He slides his hands over the firm thighs for a while before putting his hands on the Phantom's cock, stroking it. He bends down to taste it, feeling it throb inside his mouth.

”I can't really hold on for long,” the Phantom says in a low and strained voice.

One last lick below the head. ”In me,” he says smiling and biting his lip. Swiftly he finds himself on his back again, his hips pulled right on the edge of the desk. The slide in makes him whine and reach for the Phantom, who leans down over him, Sauli's legs wrapped around his waist.

It's kind of shattering, having this inexplicable but undeniably flesh-and-blood man inside him, filling him so intimately with that thickness. The Phantom's hips start moving, gaining speed until he's nudging his cock rapidly inside, hardly pulling out. Sauli hugs him close, pressing the masked head against his neck The Phantom starts gasping and then groans hard, jabbing his hips harder and shaking. Feeling the release pumped inside makes Sauli's toes curl, but his moan is silenced by a passionate kiss.

The kissing goes on for a long time, his hands caressing the Phantom's back, the cock still deep inside him and balls pressed against his ass. He pants against the Phantom's plump lips when he feels wetness trickle down.

”Mmh.” The hips start rocking again, pushing in and out with a wet, sticky sound. Sauli's hands slide lower to grab the irresistible backside, feeling it flex rhythmically.

Alternating between kissing and looking into the Phantom's eyes while being filled really is overwhelming, that gaze making him a little shy even though he trusts those eyes, but he can always capture the soft lips when it gets too much. The Phantom is thrusting with such sensual rolling movements, stomach brushing Sauli's cock. Sauli squeezes the butt cheeks and then drags his hands along the sweaty back, probably leaving red lines.

The Phantom straightens up, readjusting them by pulling Sauli's hips back to the edge of the desk, and leans over him again to thrust more rapidly, a wild lust-filled look in his eyes. Feeling how the fast pistoning signals an approaching release, Sauli grabs hold of the curve of the Phantom's rear again.

”Mine, you're _mine!_ ” the Phantom roars against his neck, the cool mask pressed against it and coming for the second time, giving another dose of his come while moaning in a voice that's really unexpectedly high for the Phantom, making Sauli's heart feel like it's bursting. He thrusts up, rubbing himself against the Phantom's body, but when that's not enough, he slides his hand between their bodies and strokes fast until he comes, making their stomachs slick with release, his muscles still clenching around the cock buried inside and hazily hearing himself being loud.

After that it's silent except for harsh breathing that gradually gets slower, and groans from them both when the Phantom's swollen cock slides out. They're both shaking slightly while coming down, the Phantom especially, tremors going all over his body when he breathes out.

Sauli is scratching the Phantom's head, random thoughts entering and leaving his mind. He wants that again, please. The closeness and the connection and the decadent pleasure. Maybe in a softer place. Why didn't they relocate to the bed? This was kind of ridiculous, although luckily his back doesn't really hurt. And how do those kisses taste so good? Does the Phantom think anyone else in the world will do for Sauli now, after this? Does the way the Phantom keeps stroking Sauli's biceps mean he really likes them? The sound of the Phantom sniffing and sighing against his skin is terribly cute. Also, has anyone been to Sauli's room while he's been here, seen his belongings and the lights still on, and deduced that Sauli is still in the Opera house? It's probably quite late now, and he knows he should go back before the janitor makes the final rounds. It's hard to resist this man he's with, though, and he nuzzles the soft hair.


	8. Chapter 8

”I should leave,” Sauli says and kisses the Phantom's bare shoulder. ”I need to go back before the janitor locks the place up.”

”What if I don't let you?” the Phantom mumbles, head tucked against him.

He starts giggling. ”Well, you can't keep me here forever.”

The Phantom doesn't respond to that but starts moving, dragging himself up while giving a few kisses on Sauli's abdomen.

”No one is as gorgeous as you.”

He almost says the Phantom clearly hasn't seen all the exquisitely beautiful young Parisian men who crowd the cafés and the art scene, but it feels mean to talk of the outside world. Being called gorgeous is lovely, even if it's hyperbole. Maybe it's Sauli's non-French looks that originally captured the Phantom's attention.

He unwraps his legs from around the Phantom's waist and puts his feet on the edge of the desk. The Phantom straightens up, staring at him all over, looking between his legs. Then he starts bending down slowly, extending his tongue.

”No!” Sauli says and closes his legs fast, pushing his feet against the Phantom's chest. ”I'll die, I'll die.” He puts a hand over his eyes and pants, feeling a heavy pulse go through his body.

The Phantom is leaning against Sauli's legs, stroking his ankles.

”Alright. I'm sorry.”

”No, just. You're killing me.” He lets out a deep breath. ”Maybe next time.”

”Next time?”

”Yes. I need to go anyway.”

The Phantom walks away but returns soon with a wet rag, giving it to Sauli so he can do the cleaning himself.

They dress up, and for Sauli it's hard to keep from smiling. Even though the Phantom tries to look elsewhere, there's clearly a smile tugging on those lips, too, in response to Sauli's grinning.

”I'll take you back,” the Phantom says. ”That was a sad attempt at propelling a boat.”

He can't argue that, and of course he wants the Phantom to escort him back. The Phantom doesn't talk during the boat ride and Sauli stays silent, too, the mood too nice to be disrupted by any attempt at talking about what this all means and what's next.

At the door he wraps himself around the Phantom, though, thinking how he's completely addicted to this now.

”Are you sore?” the Phantom asks.

”A bit.” He rests his head on the Phantom's shoulder.

”I hurt you.”

”You didn't hurt me,” he says looking at the Phantom. He gets kissed, at first with passion but then very softly.

”Goodnight, my muse,” the Phantom says, cupping Sauli's cheek with his hand. ”I'll dream about you.”

”I'll dream about you, too. I'll see you tomorrow,” Sauli says with one last kiss before going through the mirror door.

Back in the solitude of his dressing room he gathers his things fast before noticing a letter on his makeup table. He looks at it stupidly for a while before realising who it's form. Raoul has really penned it right after the ballet ended and left it in Sauli's room. He skims through it hurriedly, the words already making him not want to read it carefully right now. It sounds like a description of their life together once Sauli becomes Raoul's lover, and ugh, why did he let things escalate to this point? Now he'll have to deal with this, either by facing Raoul or writing him a response.

\---

The next day he's disappointed when he gets no answer from the Phantom before the show, and even more disappointed and embarrassed when he sees Raoul. Sometimes it's very hard to say no to someone, and more so if you care about the person on some level as a friend. Some rejections that he's done in his life he's hardly thought of since, but others have bothered him. Like the one with Adam. Maybe it's better that Adam isn't there. Somehow it would be really weird to face him right now.

Raoul doesn't take it as well as he'd hoped. He's too insistent, asking if there's someone else and would Sauli have considered him if there hadn't been another. Trying to be honest and firm and not apologise too much, but to be kind at the same time without giving too much hope is a terribly fine line to balance. Every man is so individual in his reaction to a refusal. But it's not completely terrible either: Raoul doesn't make a scene, and in the end they agree to continue being friends, even if Sauli gets the feeling it might be too forced and uncomfortable.

No, the horrible part comes afterwards. The Phantom doesn't respond in the dressing room, so not knowing what else to do, Sauli heads to check on his favourite spot in the rails. He's walking across the empty stage when a piece of paper floats down in the air.

He picks it up. It's the letter from Raoul.

” _I can already taste the kisses from your rosy lips, my dearest Sauli,_ ” the Phantom's low voice comes from above. _”As sweet and honeyed as last time.”_

Everything goes totally blank in his mind for a second.

” _Remember how I pressed you against the hayfield and kissed you? I can't stop thinking about your sweet laughter and how you asked me to do it again, then again.”_

Has the Phantom really memorised all of that or has he copied the letter?

” _I promise to adore and treasure you. As my lover you'll want for nothing.”_ The voice really sounds odd, and the direction where it's coming from is changing, the Phantom moving.

”There's no need to quote it back at me. I have read the letter. And it seems that so have you.”

”Oh, I've read the love letter you got. From you lover, I take it?” The Phantom's voice is coming closer now, and then Sauli can see him, walking across the center aisle of the auditorium and stopping in the middle.

The letter was signed, so the Phantom does know who it's from.

”Someone who wanted to be my lover. You saw it was full of offers and spoke in future terms.”

”It sounds like he's well familiar with your kisses,” the Phantom says. He's never sounded like that when talking to Sauli, even if he's acted cynical before.

”From years ago!”

”You said you were never sweethearts, _liar!_ ”

”We weren't! It was _one time!_ We were children, he kissed me and I was curious. It's normal. I didn't understand myself until later. And _fuck_ that,” he shouts louder, to his dismay feeling tears sting in his eyes because of how angry he is. He gathers breath to roar without crying. ” _You read my private letter!”_

The Phantom visibly flinches, but then squeezes his hands into fists. ”I saw you read a letter and I saw your expression,” he spits out. ”You can't expect me not to get curious, especially after what we'd had!”

”There is _no_ excuse! We hadn't even made any commitments. Maybe that's for the best, if you're so insecure that you have to violate my privacy the first chance you get.” He hadn't thought that the Phantom would stay there last night, looking at him when he'd been getting ready to leave. Although, maybe he should have expected that from his private stalker. And maybe it had been stupid not to take the letter home, but it had felt better to leave it there and avoid thinking about it at least for that night. He had still been floating on a cloud.

”Well, then!” the Phantom says. ”Lucky for you, there's another lover waiting! You can just spread your—”

”Do _not_ go there, I swear to God!” he yells, shaking from rage, and angry that it feels so bad inside that he wants to cry.

The Phantom stays quiet for a while, maybe deciding not to cross some lines.

”He was bound to love you when he saw you dance. No, not love. He's obsessed with you, I know it. Maybe he thinks it's love. ' _Say you love me every waking moment... Say you need me with you now and always... That's all I ask of you.'_ Hear what he's saying!” The Phantom really has memorised it, the madman. ”He just wants you to devote yourself to him, to worship him.”

This could possibly be the moment to tell the Phantom he's already rejected Raoul, but he's just so furious he can't bring himself to do it.

”I know what the Vicomte of Chagny is like,” the Phantom continues in a calmer but still cold voice. ”I've heard things. He might lure you with sweet words and enjoy the attentions of a cock-sucker for some time, but he's a bastard. He'll just use you for as long as he fancies and then throw you out. He doesn't truly care about you. I know his sort. He can't understand there can be real love between men, he just seeks his own satisfaction, and as soon as he gets bored or you get troublesome, he's done.”

Sauli jumps down from the stage and walks closer, stepping right in front of the Phantom, close enough to touch. Why did this have to happen, why can't they just be what they were last night? He's so angry, but he also misses the Phantom terribly.

”So now you're insulting Raoul? Sounds like a pathetic attempt to make me think ill of him. I don't think it's fair to judge him based on gossip and your eagerness to put him in the same group with some shitheads.” Even as he's saying this, he knows if there's really that kind of talk going around, then there might be a kernel of truth somewhere, but at this moment he doesn't want to consider what the Phantom is telling him.

”You can't really mean you intend to choose him.”

There's a loud screeching noise right then. At first Sauli thinks it's coming from backstage, and he realises it's a wonder none of the few people still left in the Opera house have been alerted by their yelling. The noise starts again, but the way sound sometimes reverberates in the auditorium, it's hard to pinpoint it. It's only when he sees shadows dance around him that he looks up and realises it's the enormous chandelier in the middle of the auditorium, swaying above them in such a way that something must have snapped that usually holds it up. Seven thousand pounds of bronze and crystal dropping right at them.

Everything happens so fast. It's more reacting than thinking. He's turning to face the Phantom again and getting ready to push, when something slams into his chest and he's thrown backwards, crashing into the ground and rolling over, an enormous blast in his ears. Burning candles and little pieces of the chandelier are raining over him, but he's mostly shielded by a black figure pushing him into the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

_~A month later.~_  

”Masquerade! What a wonderful way to celebrate,” Meg says, recognisable even behind her lavender Venetian mask.

”It is,” Sauli says, almost shouting into Meg's ear to be heard over music and singing and loud conversation. ”I never thought they could get a new chandelier so fast. It's such a unique and gigantic piece.”

The money had come from donors, people eagerly pitching in. All the fundraising for the Opera by the new managers had paid off. The celebratory masquerade is held at the Opera house, all along the grand foyer, the long hall outside of the auditorium full of paintings and golden decorations, but there are so many people present that the party has trickled down to the grand staircase leading up to the foyer. That's where Sauli and Meg are, leaning against a marble handrail and watching the dancing crowd of people. Everyone is wearing a Venetian mask and dressed in their best evening wear or some rather fanficul outfit.

”It's so exciting! All the crème de la crème in here.”

It's true, so many of the Parisian elite present. It never ceases to amaze Sauli that as a dancer he gets to share spaces with these people he normally wouldn't socialise with. A lot of people are wearing only handheld masks, ones that you can hold in front of your face with a stick. Some people are very easily recognisable even with masks. Like Sauli for instance, with his curls, golden mask and the costume of the Golden Slave in honour of the ballet that has been such a success.

”What a night!” Sauli recognises the voice of Mr André. ”Such glamour! And a month of relief from being pestered by a ghost. I think we really have seen the last of him.”

Surely it's a relief for the managers in some ways, but it must also be inconvenient not to get a new opera delivered to them. According to the latest rumours, there will be a revival of an old opera from some years ago, a decision made clearly in lack of a new one, but the managers must also be on the lookout for new composers.

Indeed, there's been no sight of the Phantom for a month. As far as Sauli knows he's still there under the Opera, hiding away. He knows the Phantom wasn't badly hurt in the accident, because he'd seen the Phantom walk away seemingly uninjured, escaping after making sure Sauli was alright and no fire was imminent. Sauli himself had suffered only bruisers and tiny cuts on his face, but those had healed during a two week pause in performances.

His anger about the letter is long passed. Now he's just waiting, because at some point the Phantom must get over his sulking and come out of hiding, right? Even during the pause Sauli had often visited the Opera house, which was open for repairmen, and lately he's tried every day, asking the Phantom to come out or just saying he misses him, but that's been the extent of it. No long monologues in his dressing room in the hopes that he's heard.

The heavy weight inside his chest has been easier to bear by spending more time with his dancer friends again, as well as with Adam. After the accident he'd received countless well-wishes and flowers, but he'd been quite hurt by not getting one from Adam. He hadn't even seen Adam for a long time after the accident, until he'd finally spotted him when walking in a park. It had seemed like Adam was going to turn away when Sauli had called his name, and then upon greeting him Adam had seemed... Fake somehow, as if the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. _Please don't do that,_ Sauli had said. _I've already driven away two other people. I can't endure losing you._ He felt embarrassed later for blurting out something like that to a man he hasn't even been friends with for long. But thankfully Adam had returned to his normal self, saying he was sorry to hear Sauli was sad. Even more embarrassingly Sauli had linked his arm with Adam's and they had continued their stroll together. A completely normal thing for men to do, of course, but perhaps rather with old than new friends. Doing so had felt amazingly good, however, like a balm for his hurt. On top of it when they'd reached the end of the park, he'd just turned them around to make the walk longer, finally stopping at the other end to buy coffee and sweets from a vendor.

Since then he's seen Adam a few times, and it's been lovely. Laughing with Adam just feels incredibly good, and seeing those eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open in laughter makes him forget about his heartache. It kind of seems like Adam has got over the rejection. Even if Adam offers again, however, Sauli can't reconsider. Not anymore, even if it's weirdly painful to think of Adam transferring his interest elsewhere. But he doesn't want Adam out of his life either. It's selfish, though, to want to keep Adam around like that.

To his disappointment Adam couldn't make it to the masquerade, having gone away on a trip.

”We should join the dance again, Sauli,” Meg says.

He's already been dancing quite a bit with his dancer colleagues and other people, some strangers and some familiar. Looking at the crowd, he spots Raoul in a blue mask on the dance floor and decides he should try dancing with Raoul, since they haven't even greeted each other yet that night. Raoul hasn't been around nearly as much as before, which is a shame, and their interactions have been a bit strained.

”Alright, let's!”

It's a waltz-like informal dance where partners get changed randomly, men and women mixing with each other freely. Sauli starts with Meg, but moves them closer to Raoul so that it's natural to catch his eye and express the desire to swap partners. They do so and Raoul smiles, but it's a little awkward again. Almost instantly Sauli is asked whether he came to the masquerade with someone. It's not the first instance of Raoul trying to find out if Sauli is with someone. Maybe it's frustrating for Raoul that he hasn't seen Sauli with anyone after being told one of the reasons for the rejection was there being someone else. Their small talk dies down and Sauli is wondering if it's too impolite to change partners again, when an arm clad in red taps Raoul's shoulder, and with a suave movement Sauli is pulled to another man, the arm wrapped around his waist.

It's a man taller than him, and for a disconcerting moment Sauli thinks about Adam, thinking he's made it to the masquerade after all, when he lifts his gaze and recognises the Phantom.

In fact, the Phantom is clad almost wholly in red. Rather tight red velvet trousers and a gorgeous red velvet tailcoat, with lots of gold embroidery and a high collar. There's even a red cape, thrown over one shoulder. A black leather belt around his hips, black gloves and black riding boots. The mask is still white, but different this time—there's a quite terrifying skull motif on it, making the Phantom's face look like most of it is only skull, only the beard making it look human. And the familiar soft hair brushed over his forehead.

The Phantom is staring with intense eyes, causing bursts of warmth all over Sauli's insides. Suddenly he's annoyed again, though, and he hopes his glare makes it clear how affected he's been by the Phantom's disappearance.

”Taken a lover yet?” the Phantom leans in to speak into Sauli's ear.

He puts his bare arm over the Phantom's and they start dancing among the crowd of other dancing couples.

”Go to hell,” he says, although not like he means it. ”Don't pretend you don't know all my business. I've made no promises to anyone. I know you've been moping and watching me, hearing me ask you to open the door.

The Phantom doesn't answer, moving them on the dance floor and leading with such a confident touch that Sauli doesn't have to worry at all about where they're going next and he can just let his body follow the movement. Strangely no one around them seems to pay any attention to the Phantom's looks, but everyone must be focused on their own partner. The Phantom's fingers are spread against Sauli's back, the leather gloves touching his naked skin. His heart is racing, and it feels like he's going to start shaking from how much he wants to touch.

”Pull me closer, dammit,” he whispers.

He's pulled tight against the Phantom, indecently close and especially considering Sauli's scantily clad upper body, but it's unlikely even noticeable with how crowded the place is, people moving around all the time.

” _Aah.”_ The sound leaves his throat. It feels like he's burning, wanting to climb all over the Phantom, desperate to be closer and full of yearning from the past weeks.

Without him even noticing, the Phantom has led them away from most of the dancing couples and the grand staircase, until suddenly he's spun behind a large pillar. Sauli is kissed violently, pressed against the pillar and a hot tongue invading his mouth. He opens his mouth for it and kisses back, sliding his tongue against the Phantom's, gasping for breath and kissing wetly again. Their masks press together and it's weird not feeling the cool porcelain against his skin. The Phantom's tongue is licking his mouth in a way that suggests all kinds of things. He grabs the soft hair, twisting his fingers in it as he kisses the full lips, then trailing his mouth along the bearded jaw to suck a kiss on the neck before the Phantom grabs his face to capture his mouth again.

He moans louder, unable to help it.

”Shh.” The Phantom looks at him, a startling sight in his skull mask. Then he spuns Sauli around again, dragging him towards a wall covered by heavy curtains. To Sauli's surprise there's a space behind the curtains, a small dark alcove. He's pressed against a wall there, curtains drawn shut so that there's only a small gap to look through, the space completely dark now.

”My muse. I'll take care of you,” the Phantom says.

Next thing he knows a hot mouth is kissing his bare stomach, the Phantom kneeling down in front of him. His cock is pulled out of the harem trousers, and Sauli puts his hands in the Phantom's hair. Soft, wet heat envelops the head of his cock. Then his entire length slides down the Phantom's throat, making his cock twitch from arousal, until the mouth pulls back to gasp in air and then just takes the head in again, starting to suckle it.

It would probably be a completely depraved sight if anyone was able to see them: both of them still clothed, the Phantom kneeling before him sucking on his cock. Sauli stroking the Phantom's dark hair and looking out of the gap in the curtains with half-lidded eyes and mouth dropped open, trying to keep an eye on the dancing people and concentrating on staying quiet.

There's a continuous soft sucking sound. The suction and the silky tongue against his cock make him feel like his eyes could roll back any time and drool drip from his mouth, and he almost has to check there isn't a string of saliva dripping down. The mouth pulls back with a familiar gasp. It doesn't feel like much time at all has passed since he's heard that voice. Then the Phantom licks him with the flat of his tongue, from his balls up to the head. He can feel himself leak.

”You're so needy,” the Phantom says in a deep voice.

Voicing a reply is too hard, but what can he say? Of course he's needy, having pined and fantasised about the Phantom for a month. He feels his trousers being pulled down.

”Spread your legs more, baby.”

Oh, God. _Baby._ To be addressed by that term of endearment by the Phantom makes him want to bury his head in a pillow and cry out.

He obeys and the Phantom slides his hand between his legs, starting to stroke over his hole and tease it with his index finger. The Phantom is tapping his other hand against Sauli's chest, and it takes him a while to realise he's being given a leather glove. Right, he'll probably need it soon.

A hot tongue licks across his tip slowly, the wet drag of it making Sauli bite his lip while staring out of the gap, eyes glassy. Then the tongue slides all over it for a while before the sucking continues with a rhythmic slurping noise.

” _You're_ needy,” he suddenly says in a hushed voice, like he's replying to the Phantom's comment a million years late. ”Avoiding me for a month and then instantly dragging me to a dark corner so you can drop to your knees and take my stiff cock into your mouth. Sucking it like a baby trying to get its milk. Who's the needy one here, _ah!”_ he yelps in surprise when there's a slap against his left butt cheek. He grabs the Phantom's hair, giving it a little tug while grinning and panting.

”I'm coming—baby, darling, darling I'm—” He puts the glove into his mouth to bite it, and it does quieten the sharpest edge of his moan. He comes on the Phantom's tongue, pulse after pulse flowing out, the Phantom's fingers massaging his balls gently as if trying to get all out.

His cock is released with a wet moan, then sucked back in. After a while the Phantom starts licking it clean. Sauli is just trying to remain standing, catching his breath. Then the Phantom pulls Sauli's trousers up and remains on his knees to stroke his bare stomach soothingly, sniffing in the dark.

”I need to go now,” the Phantom says getting up and taking the now wet glove. ”There's something I have to do.”

”But—” They haven't talked.

”I'm not disappearing for long again. Although maybe it would have been better to let this side of me stay gone... But I'll see you later.”

He gets a small chaste kiss, and only when the Phantom has opened the curtains and turned his back, he realises the Phantom probably thought Sauli would find it weird to taste himself on the Phantom's tongue.

He waits a short while before following the Phantom, watching the red figure move among the dancing couples. Suddenly people are paying attention, and a space quickly forms around the Phantom. Taking a leather folder, which Sauli realises has been hanging from the Phantom's belt against the back of his thigh, he now slams it on the floor with such force that it makes a loud noise. Everything stops, people stumbling even further back and staring. A few screams can be heard.

”It's the Red Death!” Sauli hears someone whisper. It gets repeated around the room, people recognising the costumed figure as Red Death, the blood-curdling figure from Edgar Allan Poe's novel, who's dressed in blood-splatted robes and whose face resembles a corpse's.

”Why so silent, good Messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good?” the Phantom asks, walking back and forth and looking at the managers. ”Here, I have written you an opera. _Don Juan Triumphant!_ ”

Sauli snorts at hearing the name, earning shocked looks from masked people standing next to him. When the Phantom turns a little, Sauli can see a clear bulge inside the red trousers. Why on earth didn't the Phantom let Sauli pleasure him? Although maybe the Phantom thought the sight of his excitement would be a nice addition to the whole presentation. Sauli can feel a hysterical laughter bubble in his throat.

The Phantom nudges the folder with his boot until the cover falls open and the title page is revealed. Under the title is written 'The Phantom of the Opera'.

Well, that's a step forward into taking credit for your own work. It makes him proud.

”A few notes before I leave. My managers must learn to take better care of the Opera. I am gravely serious when I say this. And should our star dancer wish to continue his practices... He should know his mentor has returned.” In the end there's a loud bang and a cloud of smoke emerges. When it finally settles down, the Phantom is gone.


	10. Chapter 10

”I've read the new opera,” Sauli says when the Phantom opens the mirror door and enters the dressing room, now back to his normal black garb. ”We've all received copies.”

It's based on the legends of Don Juan, a libertine and seducer, but the plot is very different from Mozart's Don Giovanni, for example. Even though it's still seemingly a tale of Don Juan's many torrid affairs with women, because nothing else could ever be shown on the stage, it doesn't escape Sauli how the main character's servant Leporello, which is the main dance role, never leaves Don Juan's side, present even in the seduction scenes. You could easily remove other characters from scenes and leave only Don Juan and Leporello, and it would still make sense.

”What did you think?” the Phantom asks brushing a hand through his hair.

”It's amazing, although it's very dark. Did you write all of it yourself?”

”There's still an element of collaboration, but this time I may have ventured to seek out collaborators myself...”

So not through André and Firmin. That's smart, but it's a mystery how the Phantom would have contacted people.

”Have you been writing it for long?”

”On and off for months.”

”It's about us, isn't it.” The Phantom doesn't answer, and it wasn't really a question anyway. ”Sing some of it for me. The Point of No Return?”

”I haven't warmed up,” the Phantom says gruffly.

Sauli sits down and lies back on a pile of cushions on the floor. From a shifty glance he can see that the Phantom won't be able to resist, even if he hasn't warmed up, and indeed the Phantom clears his throat and starts singing. At first carefully, but soon with more confidence since his voice flows fine, only with a hint of roughness.

The song is very sensual and passionate, speaking of a magnetic attraction. The Phantom is singing both parts of the duet, grabbing hold of a curtain while he sings as if taking support from it.

_”Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion-play has now, at last, begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait, before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames, at last, consume us?”_

It ends with the Phantom looking at him and breathing heavily from the exertion. Sauli opens his arms in invitation, and after a moment the Phantom starts moving, dropping down to his knees and crawling the rest of the way to wrap his arms around Sauli, resting his head against Sauli's chest. The mask is pressing on his sternum a little, but not enough that he would have the heart to tell the Phantom to move.

”Was that inspired by a certain night?” he asks and kisses the top of the Phantom's head.

”Mmh.”

”There was a lot of bursting and flames going on.”

The Phantom hugs him harder. There's a lazy arousal curling in the pit of Sauli's stomach, little flickers of flame from remembering their copulation that night and having the Phantom's body pressed against his now. He's also been thinking about other nights, though.

”People were terrified of you. The Red Death.”

”Mm-hm. It's also the colour of love and passion...” the Phantom mumbles.

”And anger.”

”I'm sorry.” The Phantom's voice is so low that to his amusement Sauli can see goosebumps appear on his arms when he hears it, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

”I'm sorry, too. Thanks for saving me. I was going to push you away, though.”

”We're lucky then that you were just a bit slower. We would have ended up pushing at each other and struggling in the middle of it, getting crushed together.”

”Well, that's one way to go. At least I would have been held by you.”

”God, Sauli...”

He wraps his legs around the Phantom and squeezes.

The Phantom seems to luxuriate in the embrace for a little while, but then pulls back a bit.

”I wanted to talk to you about something. I don't know if I can explain why I disappeared for such a long time, at least not now, it's all too much of a mess. But I need to tell you something that I may have discovered during that time.” The Phantom sounds so serious that Sauli loosens his hold, and the Phantom pulls back to sit against the cushions next to him.

”I've been doing some reasearch.”

Alright, this does not sound like it's going to be about the two of them.

”Research?”

”Fire breaking out in the storage room and then the chandelier... I don't think they were accidents. There's been a third one, too, a fire up in the rafters. It only charred some beams. I never made anyone aware of it. Nothing like this has ever happened before, _I've_ been the only one sabotaging the Opera house until now. I can't think of many reasons why anyone would do that, other than holding a grudge, which is my forte, or somehow profiting from the destruction of the Opera. And who would profit? The people owning it, if they have a good insurance.”

”André and Firmin? But that's... Wouldn't they still be better off in the long run owning a successful Opera?”

”Running an Opera is difficult and risky work. It's getting harder and harder to grab people's attention with many competing attractions popping up. Productions can fail. The Opera has already struggled financially from time to time during its history.”

”I guess the managers have shown some signs of greed,” he says, gears slowly turning in his head. ”All those luncheons to persuade people to donate.”

”Right? If they manage to destroy the Opera house in a way that seems like an accident, they can just take the nice hefty sum of money and leave, probably repeating same sort of crimes elsewhere. That's the thing I've been trying to find out. Remember how the Opera of Marseille burned down many years ago, leaving only its shell? I found out that the owners back then were two men—different names, of course. Supposedly they suffered a nervous breakdown and retired to the French colonies somewhere overseas.”

”So, I don't know, we'd have to catch them in the act.”

”I suppose. So far they've failed, and blamed me for the failed attempts.”

That's very true. Even the chandelier is now reputedly the Phantom's fault, an attempt to murder Sauli. The Phantom had already left the scene by the time people ran to the auditorium, so it had been easy to claim he'd been cutting wires.

”Just, be careful and keep your eyes open,” the Phantom says. ”Always know the nearest escape route. And there's another thing..."

The Phantom is rubbing his beard now, looking uneasy.

"While he has no direct financial link to the Opera that I know of... I'm afraid I have to tell you that the Vicomte of Chagny is their business partner in other ventures.”

It feels like a leaden weight on his chest.

"Maybe Raoul doesn't know about any wrongdoing or dirty money?"

"You just tell yourself that,” the Phantom says quietly, sounding like he already thinks they're in this together all three. ”You don't... You don't still think he's an option?”

Sauli nudges the Phantom's leg with his own.

”How did the song go?

_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts_

_I've decided”_

_”Decided,”_ the Phantom finishes the verse.

He springs up and drops down on the Phantom's lap, causing a surprised _oof_ sound that makes him chuckle. The lightest flick of his tongue against the Phantom's open lips makes hands grab his hips hard. He sits down heavily, the Phantom pressing him down, hips jerking up.

”Oh, God, you're just—so tempting,” the Phantom says. ”I dream about you constantly.”

It's so easy to let the worries go for now and concentrate on this thrilling feeling. He feels the hard pulsing length press against him eagerly, like it's something that has a mind of its own. He arches his back sitting on the Phantom's groin, and the Phantom spreads his legs a bit more, hands moving to grip Sauli's ass. He starts moving his hips, grinding them back and forth, the Phantom's hands guiding the movement.

”You do? That's good. I dream about you, too,” he says and sucks the Phantom's lower lip between his own.

After kissing for some time the Phantom starts a trail of kisses along his cheek and jaw.

”You have a beard,” the Phantom says stating the obvious. He has, just a small one.

”No shows. Just rehearsals. Mmh.”

It seems the Phantom likes it, tongue dragging along his raspy cheek.

”Have you thought about when we made love?” Sauli asks. The hips underneath him snap up and he groans.

”All the time, all the time.”

”My rehearsals start really soon.” He pauses to gasp when there's a kiss to a sensitive spot on his neck. ”But I think you should let this big boy give me some, and make me go through the rehearsals filled up,” he says, sliding a hand under him to stroke the base of the Phantom's cock through the trousers.

Sauli can't make out what the Phantom is muttering, but fingers are scrabbling to open their trousers. He lifts up to remove his trousers, the Phantom opening his own and pushing them to mid-thigh, taking his coat off. The tip of the hard length is slick, but Sauli gathers saliva into his mouth to spit on it repeatedly, sliding it down with his fingers before straddling the Phantom. It's twitching against his crack, and he rubs back against it. The Phantom's hands are spreading his cheeks, the head poking his hole before he lets it slide in.

Slowly, slowly he sits back on it. They're joined again after a month. At the first small nudge of the Phantom's hips a choked sound leaves his throat and he laughs breathlessly.

”You're so tight,” the Phantom says in a pained voice. ”Tight and hot, God, I can't believe you let me inside you.”

He rotates his hips, biting his lips at the sweet pressure. ”Anyone can come in, so you'd better hurry.”

The Phantom's eyes glance at the door.

”They would just see that the star dancer has succumbed to the lustful Ghost,” he adds.

The Phantom moans and buries his head in Sauli's neck, but his shoulders shake. For a second Sauli is struck dumb, wondering if this is the first time he's witnessing the Phantom laugh. He rotates his hips again, though, and after that it's hard to speak. The Phantom takes hold of his buttocks again and starts thrusting, just a slight rhythmic movement of his hips that nudges the cock inside him in such a way that it feels like he's seeing stars.

Soon the slide feels wetter. Their low groans and sighs fill the room. They keep switching it up, Sauli lifting himself up and down on the Phantom's cock, or staying still and letting it plough inside. Kissing is difficult like this, so they're just staring at each other, breathing through their mouths and leaning in for quick kisses from time to time.

Then he's suddenly flipped on his back on top of the pillows, the Phantom kneeling between his legs to push deep inside.

”Oh—” A sharp gasp leaves him, the angle so good. ”Feels so good, feels so good,” he can't stop repeating, eyes falling shut, hand on the Phantom's hip. When he opens his eyes again, he catches sight of the mirror door. It shows their reflection, and the sight is so many things at the same time that he doesn't know what to feel. It's arousing, ridiculous, beautiful and touching all at once. Sauli on his back, shirt still on but legs bare, curls messy against the pillows. The Phantom kneeling between his legs, leaning over him, black trousers still caught around his ankles, white shirt and black waistcoat on. No mask visible this way, just the back of his head. The beautiful curve of his backside, thrusting rhythmically. The place where they're joined, the skin of the Phantom's balls redder than the rest of his skin. Two half-dressed men sprawled on the floor together is kind of a funny sight, but it takes his breath away.

”Come here,” he tells the Phantom to lean closer. He cards his fingers through the Phantom's hair and kisses the side of his head, looking at himself in the mirror while doing it. He tucks the sight into his heart and gets caught up in the pleasure, the Phantom capturing his lips and pressing in deep, pushing hard three times before starting to groan loudly.

Sauli is moaning through all of it, the thickness inside pressing in exactly the right way, hot release being pumped in. With a few tugs he comes too, shaking and biting the Phantom's shoulder to keep quiet.

They stay like that for a long time, kissing.

”Weren't you in a hurry?” the Phantom finally asks.

”Yes. I'm supposed to be there already,” he says while petting the Phantom's bare skin lazily.

”Oh, shit.” The Phantom starts getting up, groaning when pulling out. He's pulling his trousers up fast, grabbing the coat. ”Then someone could come get you any minute.”

Sauli stretches his legs and sits up. ”You were supposed to lick my hole clean from your cream.”

The Phantom's mouth drops open.

”Oh, Christ. You're impossible. Jesus Christ. _Next_ time. I'm going. _Fuck_.”

Sauli laughs the entire time he gets dressed and all the way to the stage.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to come, but I'm terribly sorry to say I'm going away soon on a 3-day trip, and I won't be able to finish the ending during the one remaining day before that, so you'll have to wait for the ending until early next week=end of the month. D:

After Sauli arrives late to the rehearsals of Don Juan, he realises two things. First of all, having another man's cock up your ass minutes before dancing is not something to recommend to anyone, ever. Secondly, it's an open rehearsal which the subscribers have been invited to watch, but he doesn't see Adam anywhere.

”Are you looking for Chagny? He's over there,” Meg says.

Sauli has already seen Raoul and smiled at him, but after hearing the Phantom's speculation, it feels too weird to go talk to him right away.

”No. Mr Lambért. Maybe his trip took longer than it was supposed to.”

Why does he feel so guilty about missing Adam? Adam is just a friend, right? Although maybe it's better that Adam isn't there, because the Phantom is probably watching, and it seems he gets jealous easily. Even if there's no reason to.

At the luncheon the next day Adam explains his absence.

”I have to say I honestly forgot. I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

”That's alright. You'll come to the premiere. Did you bring me anything from your travels?”

”Um...” Adam looks uncomfortable and Sauli starts laughing.

”I'm just teasing you. Do you want to get out of here?”

Things being what they are, everything related to the current situation in the Opera is making him feel weird. He can hear Mr André's voice promoting the new opera loudly, trying to turn the strange situation to their advantage and making a huge deal out of the mysterious author, the Phantom of the Opera, getting people interested that way.

”Please, I'd love to,” Adam says.

On their way out they bump into Cristal.

”Oh, hello. Do I see two lovebirds before me?”

”No, we're not—we're not an item. Just friends,” Sauli says. To his dismay he realises instantly that it's not quite true. He's not just friends with Adam. What he feels when he's with Adam is not comparable to what it's like with Cristal. The realisation makes him anxious and ashamed.

”I see. You two have fun,” Cristal says in a way that makes it clear how unconvincing Sauli is.

Adam doesn't comment any of it, only asks Sauli where they're going. They end up purchasing a picnic basket and taking a carriage to the large park of Bois de Boulogne on the western edge of the city, Sauli not wanting to be gawked at as much as in the smaller parks full of people.

”Is everything alright?” Adam asks when they've settled down by a lake, sitting down next to Sauli.

”Fine. I'm just... Really worried about someone, and now I think I've managed to get myself into a weird situation.”

”Oh. Is there anything I can do?”

No, unless Adam is a detective, or unless he can magically clear the muddle that is Sauli's feelings.

”I don't think so. You're sweet.”

Honestly he'd just like to close his eyes and lean against Adam. They're sitting so close. He glances at Adam's blue-green eyes. Funny how that lower lip looks as deliciously plump as the Phantom's, or maybe Sauli just misses him. Now he's thinking about kissing, and Adam's face is definitely leaning closer.

At the last second he turns his face away, Adam's nose brushing his ear.

"I can't. I'm sorry.”

”Sauli, I—”

”I fell in love with someone else first."

Adam leans back, and Sauli knows he's being stared at, but he keeps looking at the lake.

”I don't... I don't think you mean the Vicomte of Chagny.”

”No.”

A groan makes him look at Adam, who's buried his face in his hands.

"I messed everything up. Why am I not enough when I'm trying to be _good_..." Adam's voice comes mumbled from behind his hands, but it doesn't make complete sense anyway.

"No, you're not listening. You're more than enough, but I fell in love with another _first_." Meaning that I love you, too, he adds silently.

Adam looks very much like he's going to declare something, so Sauli continues fast.

”Please don't say anything more. I may have feelings for you, but I've given my heart to another, and I stay true.”

”But I need to tell you how much I—”

He puts his palm over Adam's lips. He can't hear it. He didn't know... It was supposed to be only some casual attraction from Adam's part, snuffed out by Sauli telling him he wasn't interested.

”I can't, please. Not now. I promise I'll listen to you, but please let's just... Not make this day difficult,” he says, lifting his palm and cupping Adam's smooth cheek briefly.

He feels so tired. Logically thinking Adam would be the better choice. Someone he could have some normalcy with: walks in a park rather than talking through a wall or hiding underground. Someone he can laugh with. Someone who's not choosing to spend his life hiding, being bitter and angry at people. But none of this is logical, and he can't deny how utterly the Phantom holds his heart.

It's like loving night and day.

”Alright. How about we wait until the premiere, after it gets less stressful for you, and then both of us will say whatever it is that needs saying? I can wait a little longer, but I _am_ going to say what's on my mind,” Adam says with insistence. ”But today we'll just... Frolic in the park. Feed the ducks. Here.” Adam breaks off a chunk of a baguette, tears it into smaller pieces and starts throwing them towards a group of ducks in the lake while making _quack_ sounds.

Sauli is laughing so hard he lies down on his back, rolling over onto his stomach to just cry into the ground. He can hear Adam laughing at him, a bright laugh.

”Are you dying? Do you need mouth-to-mouth?” Adam asks.

”You wish,” he says giggling. How weird they are to be joking about this. ”I'd push you into the pond.”

”That's alright. It'd be just me and my new friends, spending time together. I'd pretend drowning so then _you_ would have to give me mouth-to-mouth.”

”You're such a goof.” He sits up and takes his shoes off, pulling his trouser legs up and burying his feet in wet sand, sighing with contentment.

”Tough rehearsals?”

”Mm-hm. My legs are pretty tired.”

Adam offers him some bread and he starts to throw it for the ducks, too. Just like that they're talking and giggling about normal things again, and it feels good. Even if he now knows that Adam is in love with him, and that while the feeling is mutual, he'll still have to break Adam's heart. Maybe his own, too.

\---

Next day at the Opera house he meets Raoul coming down the stairs, probably from the managers' office. Sauli has barely said hello, when Raoul grabs his elbow and takes him aside.

”I need to talk to you.”

”If you're asking me again...”

”No, not that,” Raoul says, glancing in all directions before meeting Sauli's eyes. ”Not yet at least. I haven't given up, but that's not what I want to talk about. I've discovered something about this mysterious author of the new opera. The Ghost. He's dangerous, a lunatic who's been terrorising the Opera for years. He needs to be captured.”

There's something disturbing in Raoul's stare, his eyes feverish.

”You're mistaken. He's done nothing criminal.”

”He's been talking to you, hasn't he?” Raoul takes a step closer, forcing Sauli to step back. ”You know him. You're under his spell.”

”What? No, I'm not. That's stupid. He's a good person.”

”Do not worry, Sauli. Everything will be alright,” Raoul says, putting his hand on Sauli's shoulder for a moment before walking away.

Whatever the hell Raoul is planning to do, Sauli needs to warn the Phantom. He practically runs into the dressing room.

”Angel. _Angel!”_ He keeps repeating it for ages before there's a reply.

”What's wrong?”

”I think Raoul is planning something.” He tells the Phantom of the strange exchange.

”They know I'm the one who's been subverting their plans. Maybe they've had enough, but they don't know any of the entrances to the lair. Don't worry. I'm pretty sure they'll want to cash out on Don Juan at first before attempting anything again, let it run for a while. But I promise I'll be careful.”

It doesn't make his worries go completely away.

”Come here?”

”I... I can't today,” the Phantom says softly.

Asking why seems pointless. He sighs. ”When?”

”I'll see you after your days off.”

”But that's so far away. I wanted to hold you now.” Not being able to touch the Phantom feels especially terrible at the moment.

”I'm sorry. I'll be with you soon.”

\---

It takes several days before the Phantom comes to him. Sauli is sitting in his usual spot up in the flies after rehearsals, when he gets wrapped in the Phantom's arms, the cape thrown around them both.

”I missed you,” he says, eyes closed and head tucked against the Phantom's shoulder. ”Would you like to kiss?”

The Phantom's shoulders jump and there's a stifled sound.

”I'd love to.”

Lips press against his, pursed slightly to give a lingering kiss, then another. They just sit in the darkness on the bridge, trading slow unhurried kisses. Sauli strokes the Phantom's bearded jaw below the mask.

”This is shorter.”

”Mmh.”

The Phantom opens his lips and starts teasing slightly with his tongue, the kisses turning wetter, but not so much that things would get too heated.

”You've become so soft,” Sauli says into the kiss and pulls back to look at the Phantom. ”Where are the hard edges now?”

The Phantom is looking at him with his mouth dropped slightly open, lower lip slick.

”Have I?”

”You're different from what you used to be.”

When the Phantom just stares at him he laughs and kisses the dumb man.

\---

Being on stage during Don Juan is thrilling, even if the voice of the actor playing the leading role definitely falls short from the Phantom's. What with the silent role of Leporello demanding Sauli to be on stage every time that Don Juan is, even if he's not dancing all the time, there hasn't been much time to wait around in the foyer. Therefore he doesn't know if Adam is present. Box Five is too dark, as usual, to see if anyone's there. This time he hopes it's empty, though, Raoul's strange threats making him nervous.

He's just about to return to the stage from a brief pause, glancing behind him to make sure Don Juan is following him, when his heart skips a beat. It's the Phantom. Wearing a costume that's pretty much the same as Don Juan's, but a very different sight from the usual rather pot-bellied middle-aged actor, who really hasn't been the spitting image of a seducer. The Phantom is dressed in such a dark red it's almost black. He's wearing a short jacket which cuts off above the hips, and several buttons of the waistcoat and the white shirt underneath are open, so that part of the Phantom's bare chest is visible. The trousers are quite tight-fitting. The costume brings to mind something Spanish, to go with the theme of the Opera.

”What are you doing?!” Sauli whispers.

”Shh. I bribed him. Go on,” the Phantom says, giving Sauli's backside a little pat, and he has no choice but to step onto the stage.

There's an audible gasp from the audience, people noticing that the actor playing Don Juan has changed, and likely being confused about the mask. Sauli goes through the motions, performing a short dance and taking his spot, when the Phantom starts to sing. It's The Point of No Return, and hearing it sung again by the Phantom is giving him chills. It can't escape anyone that the voice is obviously superior to the previous actor's, so strong and harmonic.

He can't take his eyes off the Phantom, but luckily as Leporello he doesn't need to. Even though the Phantom is supposed to sing to the female actor sharing the stage, who seems quite frozen in shock, he keeps looking at Sauli. Singing only to him the song that was inspired by them. It doesn't even feel like the Phantom is performing a role. He's just living the song, feeling every emotion truthfully. It's not hard to imagine the entire audience is getting as seduced as Sauli. Like that time in the dressing room, the Phantom keeps singing the female part, too, maybe intending to do so from the beginning, or just because the other actor is paralysed.

When it ends, you could hear a pin drop for a moment before the audience explodes into cheers and applause. Sauli realises there are tears on his cheeks as he smiles at the Phantom.

Another scene is supposed to follow right after, the location changing on the go and a background drop changing into another, but there seems to be a bit of a problem. The drop remains the same and Sauli can hear a rattle from backstage, which makes him guess the rigging has jammed somehow. Of course it had to happen now and not during dress rehearsals.

Finally something seems to happen, the new drop falling down. Along with the new drop, however, down comes something that's hanging from a rope. People scream. The next piece of music that has started dies down, players stopping one by one.

It's a body, hanging from a rope around the neck and swinging grotesquely in the air. Mr André the manager, blood dripping down from his lifeless body. Something must have gone horribly wrong.

Chaos erupts, the audience scrambling up and rushing to the doors. Sauli's arm is grabbed.

”We have to go, now,” the Phantom says. He follows the Phantom running towards the backstage, going past people either standing still in shock or running about.

”It's the Phantom!” Sauli recognises the voice of Mr Fermin coming from somewhere behind him. ”He's been terrorising the Opera for years and now he wants to kill us all! After him!”

The Phantom turns a sharp corner, dragging Sauli after him, and they run up a metal spiral staircase backstage to get up to the flies. It seems mad to Sauli to be running closer to the scene of crime, but the Phantom must be leading them to the nearest secret entrance.

He glances below them, seeing the stage full of people. Firmin is still there, raving, and people seem to get caught up in it, arming themselves with fake weapons used in the opera.

”It wasn't the Phantom!” Madame Giry's voice yells. ”Look at him! He's covered in blood!”

But even if Firmin is covered in blood, mob mentality has spread and people seem to pay no mind to what's in front of their eyes.

”Find the Phantom!”


	12. Chapter 12

At the end of the bridge there's a small storage used to keep rigging equipment in. They enter it, and inside in the darkness Sauli hears another door opening.

”You go first,” the Phantom says.

Sauli bends his head a little to go through a small door and starts walking blindly ahead, touching the walls. It's a narrow corridor with a low roof, and they don't have any light with them. They should be safe in the lair, though. The Phantom's hiding place should be pretty secret, and the entrances there are hidden.

”What's going on? What do you think happened?” he asks as they walk along in the darkness.

”I don't know. Maybe they disagreed, or something just went wrong. Alright, stop.” The Phantom puts his hand on Sauli's shoulder. ”Just a little ahead there's a staircase. Go carefully so you don't fall down. It will lead you to the lair.”

”You mean us,” he says with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

”No, just you. Wait for me there. I have a plan.”

”Are you insane? I'm not leaving you.”

”I need to help Madame Giry. She's been helping me, she went to Marseilles to gather evidence about André and Firmin. I have to make sure she and the papers are safe.”

A thousand questions pop into Sauli's head, the foremost being why is the Phantom always so secretive? Sauli knew Madame Giry had gone away for a while, of course, but he doubts even Meg knows where her mother had really gone.

”I can come with you,” he says.

”I can't do this if I worry about you! I know my way around this Opera better than anyone. I'll be alright. Sauli, please. We need to put an end to this, and we need to be able to prove they're behind everything.”

He hates not seeing even the little bit of the Phantom's face that he usually sees, but the voice is so desperate that he feels himself give in. He can't physically force the Phantom to come with him, and he can't start shouting, fearing that their voices would be heard through the walls.

”Alright. But you have to promise me you'll come back as soon as you know everything is alright. Don't do anything stupid, don't show yourself, and stay away from that madman.”

”I promise.”

Goddamn him. Sauli reaches blindly, his hand finding the Phantom's chest. He presses himself close, his lips finding a bearded chin and then soft lips. He kisses the Phantom hard and deep, getting kissed back just as hard.

”Come back to me,” he whispers.

”I will, and I'll see you soon. Go now. Down once more, into the dungeon...”

Sauli lets go of the Phantom and starts taking slow steps forward, always making sure there's solid ground beneath his foot before putting weight on it. Soon his heart skips a beat when there's a drop. The staircase is long, spiraling down what feels like endlessly until it stops and he finds himself in a stone corridor. After a while he rounds a corner and sees the Phantom's lair. Only one oil lamp is on, so Sauli finds matches and starts lighting some candles for lack of anything better to do.

They should have discussed this. Are they going to wait it out or escape somewhere? Is there even any exit directly from the lair? The mask would naturally draw attention, but it's already dark outside, and perhaps the Phantom could wear a hood.

Much sooner than Sauli has dared to hope, there's the sound of footsteps.

”Angel?”

”Hello, Sauli.”

It's not the Phantom.

”How did you get in here?” he asks, blood draining from his face.

Raoul comes a bit closer and picks up a sheet of music from a table, glancing at it.

”Oh, I got lucky. I've been trying to watch and learn, but I only saw it now: the Phantom coming out of a room that was supposed to have only one door. I probably followed you. Nearly fell down some stairs.” Raoul throws the paper on the ground and starts to look around. ”What a cute little place. Is this where he's been screwing you?”

There's something strange about Raoul, his stare even more disturbing than last time, even though he's clearly acting nonchalant. His hair is messy and clothes a bit in disarray, which is very unlike Raoul. Then Sauli notices something tucked into Raoul's waistband, almost hidden by the black tailcoat. It looks like a wooden handle, and there's a small drop of blood, red against the white of Raoul's shirt.

”What did you do?” The words leave Sauli's mouth.

”It's not about what I _did_ , it's what I'm going to do that's more interesting. But I only dealt with a little problem that came up. You see, Box Five was empty tonight, so my plan to deal with the Phantom didn't succeed. Then I saw him on stage. I'm afraid André discovered me and didn't quite agree with such a public conclusion to the Phantom's doings. Really unfortunate for André. Good with business, but doesn't like to get his hands dirty. Well, Firmin doesn't either, and he was quite sad about André, poor chap, but at least he saw reason.”

Sauli registers everything that Raoul is saying, but the one thing his mind fixates on is that without their knowing, Raoul was going to... _Do_ something to the Phantom while they were on stage. And the Phantom was saved only by André disagreeing with the method. His heart is pounding and palms sweating, fear making his body tremble slightly.

His hope that the Phantom would hurry back now changes into hoping the Phantom will stay away. What can Sauli do? Raoul has a knife. Maybe he could try to find something in the lair to use to his advantage. At least by keeping Raoul talking, he'll be able to alert the Phantom that there's someone else with him.

”So you killed him,” Sauli says. Maybe Firmin was trying to save André and got himself bloodied that way. ”I thought the managers were ready to burn Opéra Garnier down no matter if there are people inside or not.”

”Oh, you know about that? Yes, well. It's very indirect, isn't it? A fire. People might get out. I suppose it gives everyone a chance. It's not _really_ your fault if someone is caught in the flames. I believe Firmin is trying to set fire right now. You'll be quite alright here underground, don't worry. Anyway, they just don't like to deal with nasty things personally. Like the chandelier. That wouldn't have been their style. They would have waited until the two of you were out of the way.”

What...?

”It was you?”

”Yes, and I'm terribly sorry, dear Sauli. I'm afraid jealousy got the better of me,” Raoul says with an unsettling giggle. ”But I understand now. The Phantom has enchanted you, but it's not your fault. Once he's dead, you'll be free to love me.”

He's insane, has to be. It feels so stupid to Sauli now that he hasn't paid enough attention. Even tonight, what with performing, the Phantom singing on stage and then the chaos that followed, Sauli had completely forgotten to even wonder whether Raoul was present.

”Love you? Yes, I... I think I do...” he says, making his eyes wide and placing his palm on his chest. ”Raoul, I'm scared of the Phantom. He makes me swear I belong to him, but in my heart I know...” He walks closer to Raoul while talking, staring into Raoul's eyes. Once he's next to the table, he sits on it, hoping his body blocks the view of a heavy candleholder on it. He reaches for it behind his back, grasping the cold iron in his sweaty palm, and gets ready to swing it at Raoul's head with all of his strength.

Just as he's doing it, he sees a glint in Raoul's eyes, but it's too late. Sauli's swinging arm is caught in a powerful grip, the candleholder torn away.

”Tut-tut! You're still under his spell. The Witch needs to die before you'll be free. Although, while we wait, I could start reminding you that you love me. By having a little fun... I'll be the only man who takes you from now on.”

A shudder of revulsion goes through him. Without even stopping to think, he kicks as hard as he can, but sadly misses Raoul's knee. The expression on Raoul's face is pure rage. Sauli's hand reaching for the knife on Raoul's belt is grabbed fast. Sauli isn't useless in a fight, though, and even if he's smaller than Raoul, he has many tricks up his sleeve. Even the best fighting tactics don't help, however, if you're unconscious. He thinks about the Phantom as his last thought before the candleholder hits his head.

\---

A dull throbbing pain at the back of his head is the first thing Sauli feels. Opening his eyes, he sees a red Turkish rug, flickering candlelight throwing shadows on it. For some reason he can't move his arms or legs, and it takes a second to realise he's lying on his side with hands tied behind his back and feet tied together. He's never been tied before, and it's strange how that's the first thing to think about, before the present situation and everything that happened before Raoul knocked him out rushes into his mind. Weird stifled sounds and grunts make him turn around until he can see what's happening behind him.

There are two figures by the edge of the underground lake, grabbing each other and struggling. The Phantom and Raoul.

”I don't like it when people steal something that's mine!” Raoul shouts, pushing against the Phantom, who's grabbing Raoul's arms, clearly trying to push him away.

”He's not yours,” the Phantom grits out venomously.

The Phantom is still wearing Don Juan's costume, which looks nearly black in the lair. Part of the Phantom's chest is bare. Raoul manages to push hard enough that the Phantom's grip loosens a bit for a second. Sauli sees a flash of metal, and then a thin red scrape appears on the naked skin. The Phantom makes no sound, but Sauli can see the white of his teeth. Raoul laughs.

Cold terror seizes Sauli. The Phantom is physically bigger, his body more solid and his frame larger, but Raoul is athletic, as a nobleman trained in fencing and other sports.

It feels like the fear is paralysing him. Nothing matters as much as the Phantom's continuing existence. Sauli would do anything to protect the Phantom and keep him safe. His limbs feel weak and numb, but he tries struggling against the restraints. It's useless. If he was free, he would gladly throw himself between the two men, or push the Phantom to safety, like he meant to do with the chandelier.

Raoul makes another attempt with the knife, the point of it narrowly missing the Phantom's stomach.

It feels like he's choking, on the brink of bursting into sobs, a ringing in his ears and pins and needles in his body.

He tries to say something, but no sound comes out of his throat. Swallowing and then gathering more breath he tries again.

” _Adam!”_

The sound echoes in the natural cave. It almost feels like it was someone else who shouted it. Everything is still, and a strange sort of calmness comes over Sauli, despite everything.

Both men have turned to stare at him, struck dumb.

The moment seems to last forever, but in reality it's probably only a few seconds. Things start moving again, the Phantom waking up and giving Raoul such a powerful kick to the stomach that Raoul stumbles backwards, falling into the lake and the knife dropping from his hand.

The Phantom retrieves the knife and grabs the long rowing oar from the boat. When Raoul surfaces, gasping and coughing, the oar is pointed right at him, giving him something to hang onto, but keeping him at a distance.

”It's over, Raoul,” the Phantom says. ”The police have arrived. They arrested Firmin. Madame Giry and I have gathered more than enough evidence to link him and André to past crimes, as well as yourself. Firmin already blamed you for André's murder.”

”You're lying,” Raoul says coughing out water and gripping the oar.

”I'm not. You can go see for yourself.” The Phantom pulls the oar away from Raoul's reach and uses the mechanism to open the iron gate. ”If you swim that way, you'll eventually find a path that leads you to a dressing room. If you swim even an inch closer to here, I swear I'll kill you.”

Raoul tries to say something, but sinks underwater momentarily.

”I suggest you start swimming or else you'll drown. Go on.”

Left with no options, Raoul gives one final glare and starts swimming, going past the open gate, which the Phantom closes after him.

Only when the gate is shut and the splashing noises are very weak, the Phantom turns around. Without looking at Sauli, the Phantom walks to him, kneels down and starts cutting the restraints with the knife.

As soon as he's free, Sauli launches himself at the Phantom, throwing his arms around the Phantom's neck.

”Oof!” comes the surprised sound.

He's hugging probably painfully hard, feeling big teardrops spill out. Hands touch his back gingerly. His fingers find the back of the Phantom's head and the band there. There's no resistance. He pushes it up over the Phantom's head, hearing the thud of the mask dropping onto the carpet. There's no hurry, so he hugs some more, tucking his face against the solid shoulder.

Adam is touching him so delicately, as if he's afraid to move or breathe. So Sauli takes an exaggeratedly deep breath and lets it flow out, relaxing his body against Adam's and feeling Adam's body relax a bit in return.

”How long have you known?” Adam asks.

That voice. It's lighter, but full of emotion, and it's hard to say whether it's Adam's or the Phantom's. Maybe more like Adam's at the moment. If Sauli didn't know, he would have guessed it to be Adam.

”I have no idea. Maybe just now.”

It's true. Now it feels like surely he must have known earlier? But he can't say that he had, or pinpoint any moment of realisation when he would have thought of Adam and his Angel as one. It just came out of him.

Finally he lifts his head a little. Feeling almost shy he presses a kiss against Adam's ear, then along his cheek, then lips, before pulling back and looking at Adam.

Those are Adam's familiar thick eyebrows. Distinctly hooded eyes that now look so sad. Sauli could swear that Adam's eyes were lighter, but it must be the light. He's mostly met Adam in bright daylight, while he's only ever seen the Phantom in dark or shadowy places with quite faint lighting.

”Your eyes change colour,” he blurts out. ”They're like the ocean.” Different shades of blue, green and grey.

Adam's lips twitch in a sad smile. It's strange to see that bearded lower face combined with all the distinct features of Adam's face, like the straight nose. Sauli pushes the soft hair off of Adam's forehead, so it's styled back more like Adam's instead of the Phantom's. Then he puts his palm in front of his own eyes so that he can see only the lower part of Adam's face, then switching so that he sees only the top part and no beard. Switching back and forth. The lips are the same, he can see it now. Everything is the same. If there was more light, he could probably see freckles on Adam's skin.

”I don't know why you look so sad,” he says. ”We're alive and I love you.”

Tears spill forth from Adam's eyes.

”But I've lied to you, I've been fooling you.”

”Not about loving me, I hope?” 

”I love you more than anything.”

He never thought the words would cause a feeling like this, and he savours it for a moment. ”Then... Why two of you?”

”I just... I'm all broken,” Adam says wiping his cheeks. ”Have been for a long time. I came here because I was drawn to the Opera house and I had nowhere else to go. I had run out of money, wasted it in paying for singing lessons and trying to keep up a certain lifestyle so I didn't look like I was completely destitute, until I was. I have to admit I almost decided to take my own life.” It makes Sauli grab hold Adam's jacket. ”I didn't, but I was in a bad place. The old manager convinced me to keep writing music, and he turned a blind eye to everything else, paying for my living generously enough but pretending not to know I was hiding somewhere inside the Opera.”

”Why didn't you get any parts?” Sauli asks, although now he suspects he knows the answer. ”You've said something about not appealing to audiences.”

”They didn't want anyone flamboyant. Not a _sodomite_ performing on stage. The lead actor needs to be someone who doesn't shock audiences, someone who appeals to everyone, apparently. I mean, some of the people I was trying to impress did say the voice was fine, but I started doubting even that. I was a total failure.”

Sauli doubts anyone would describe the voice only as _fine_ , but Adam seems to be good at belittling himself.

”I'm sorry. I know it can be hard, but I didn't imagine...”

”I know, and I'm not bitter at you for succeeding where I didn't. I'm happy for you. You're not quite so obvious, and ballet has always been more forgiving than opera. I can only blame myself for having been so obvious and open about everything. It would have been better to hide it. Anyway, I started hating everything and everyone. I didn't want anyone to remember me, so at first I never left this place. When rumours of a Phantom living in the Opera started to spread, I took the role gladly.”

”So when did you start going out as yourself?” A confusing thought strikes him. ”Adam is your real name, right?”

”It is. It took a while. I changed my appearance the best I could. I thought everyone would probably remember me as the cynical failure I'd become and nobody wanted, so I chose to be only happy and carefree. It turned out nobody even remembered the name of Adam Lambért. That's how much of a mark I'd made in the world, and I'd driven everyone away. So I was free to present a new, joyous Adam. It's what everyone wants to see, a cheerful man who never complains about anything, and not an embittered and disappointed one. The one who's a screwup.”

It's not easy to piece everything together with the back of his head aching. But it seems to fit. The Phantom a tortured and lonely soul, but abandoning all of that for the brief moments he ventures outside, pretending nothing is wrong. And maybe that would be Adam's true nature, the happy one, if he was only able to live it truthfully without worries. Everyone has a dark side, though, and in Adam the two sides have been very visible and distinct.

”Every time I leave the Opera house and cast aside the Phantom, it feels like I can cast aside my dark side, too, but it always lasts only for a little while.”

”But they're not so different,” Sauli says. ”They've started to blur together. Haven't you noticed? It's all just you. A mix of many things and complicated feelings. You have this... Passion inside you, it's obvious. A drive to perform and create and succeed. It's not healthy that it's been stifled. But mostly you're kind and loving, and very silly when you let yourself be and don't hang onto your gloominess.”

There's a short self-deprecating giggle, but Adam's eyes are wide, like he's drinking in every word, wanting to believe it.

”I love you,” Sauli says. ”I love both sides of you and I see them in both of your personas. You're not a screwup, so stop that. You can't allow other people to dictate what you can or can't do with your life, you have to try again. I don't know if the world deserves you for how it's treated you, but you deserve to sing on stages. I think things have changed from what they used to be. Just a little, but maybe it's enough. There are all kinds of people performing, the stage is a safer place than many others, where people like us aren't wanted. Don't let bad experiences of your youth bring you down. You haven't even been to any casting events as Adam since everything, right? You've refused to have anything to do with singing as Adam? So maybe you should go take a look now. I'll come with you.”

”I can't expect you to save me...” Adam says, a tear sliding down from the corner of his eye again.

”Yes, you can. You've already saved me twice. We'll just keep saving each other again and again.”

Now Adam is finally smiling.

”My muse. My heart. You make me better. You make me brave.”

Adam's lips taste salty. Sauli kisses them until Adam opens his mouth and he can taste only the familiar sweet taste.

”You're already brave,” he says, nibbling Adam's lower lip. ”And I don't care what name you want to go by or how you want to present yourself, but this lair really needs to go. I'm going to live with you only in sunlight.”

Arms wrap around him and he's pulled against Adam's body, a hard kiss pressed on his lips.

”You're going to live with me, huh? You're going to be mine?” Adam asks with a rough voice. The possessiveness immediately causes a small flicker of heat in Sauli's stomach, his heart rate speeding up. It's so like the Phantom, and it may take a while before his mind starts fully accepting he loves only one man. He slides his arms around Adam, squeezing the warm body.

”In a proper home,” he says grinning.

”Alright. Sunlight, check. What else would you like?”

”A puppy,” he says, excited at the thought of being able to list everything. ”A large bed. A bathtub to fit the two of us. A rose garden. Actually, a town house in Paris and a cottage in the countryside. With a lake. Your singing. Coffee in bed in the mornings. Wine in the garden in the evenings. Massages for my tired muscles...”

Adam's eyes get squintier the longer the list goes on.

”Some of those are easy enough to provide, but I wonder where we'll get the money for two houses.”

”Oh, I have no doubts you'll become a huge star.”

”Hmm." Adam strokes his own beard, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Sounds good to me, but maybe it's best to get me at least a small dark closet where I can sulk if the need really strikes.”

Sauli bursts into laughter, giggling against Adam's shoulder.

”But please don't shave anymore. I mean, you can if you want to, but I do love the beard.”

”I think I've had enough of constantly shaving and re-growing my beard for a while.”

Adam pulls Sauli to sit sideways on his lap, starting to stroke his inner thigh in a way that sends lovely tingles up his spine.

”We should get up and take care of that,” Sauli says and nods at the red scrape on Adam's chest.

”It's fine. The blood has dried. Sit here with me for a while.”

He gets a little worried suddenly. Is it certain they're not on the run?

”Was it all true what you said to Raoul?”

”Yes. I saw the police arrest Firmin. They caught him coming from his office carrying matches and oil while the mob was searching for us. Madame Giry cleared things up. Firmin tried to rave about me at first, but he confessed soon. So at the moment the police thinks the Phantom is only fantasy, and nobody is searching for us anymore. I hope they've also caught the Vicomte. We should still go to testify later. With no mention of any other relationship than that of a mentor and a student, of course.”

”Which is which?”

”I don't know, actually.”

”Right. I still don't know what on earth you were thinking getting me to fall in love with you as the Phantom, and then approaching me as Adam.”

Adam throws his head back and groans.

”It didn't go quite as planned. I was rather obsessed with you, so I wanted you to see my good side. The one I thought you would want. I didn't dare to hope you'd have feelings for me at that point. I thought I would ruin you as the Phantom. Then I thought there was something wrong with my good side, too, when you made it clear you didn't want my flirting.”

”Back then I thought I was still just one among many.”

”Regardless of my outfit, I'm not some real life Don Juan,” Adam says with a comically pointed look, making Sauli laugh.

”I should hope so,” he says. ”This doesn't really work out if you're interested in getting into bed with women.”

”I think you know exactly what I'm interested in,” Adam says moving his hand to the junction of Sauli's legs and giving a squeeze.

” _Aah.”_ The spike of lust is startling, such heady pleasure caused by Adam's hand and spreading through his whole body. He grips Adam's clothes and spreads his legs a bit more, desperate for more contact. Adam gives it to him by rubbing through the trousers, cupping the hardening length and squeezing again.

After such horrifying experiences this kind of thing should maybe be the furthest from his mind, but then again it feels like exactly what he needs, the relief and ecstasy of being alive in his lover's arms, full of dreams about the future, manifesting in a physical need.

”You make such pretty sounds,” Adam says, hovering his lips above Sauli's. ”I can play you like the piano. Press here... And here... And lovely sounds pour out.”

He groans when Adam's finger brushes over his nipple.

”Now _that_ was out of tune. I'd better do some tweaking.” After opening a couple of buttons of Sauli's shirt, Adam starts rubbing the nipple with his thumb, then takes it between his fingers and rolls it gently.

Sauli is laughing and moaning with a higher voice, which makes him laugh harder until it feels so good he's moaning again.

”Stop, stop! I want—I want—”

”What do you want?”

He pulls Adam's face closer. ”I want your mouth on mine... And I want your cock.”

Adam opens his trousers and pulls his flushed length out. After opening his own trousers Sauli wraps his leg around Adam, pressing their groins together and claiming Adam's mouth. It's frantic but sweet a the same time, their groins rubbing together, hips moving restlessly and hands grabbing everywhere. The feel of Adam's lips against his so sweet, the way they're pressing such eager kisses on his lips, yet the next moment it's arousing as hell, Adam's slick tongue sliding into his mouth and backing away repeatedly. Sauli takes hold of their cocks and rubs them together, everything hot and wet. It feels like Adam's moans are destroying Sauli's higher brain functions, all the sharp whines and moans that he's letting out now that there's no reason to hide his natural voice.

”Come on,” he says, caressing and squeezing Adam's round buttocks with his other hand. ”I want to hear you. _Angel_.”

Adam comes first, moaning into Sauli's mouth and spilling his pleasure all over Sauli's hand. Sauli follows soon after, both of them now looking at his hand moving on his cock, made slicker by Adam's release.

”Mmh.” Adam makes a low content sound after Sauli has stopped and then kisses Sauli's temple.

He wipes his hand on the carpet and then wraps himself around Adam. Adam's neck is sweaty and the beard ticklish, but he loves it.

”My lover,” Sauli mumbles. ”We're starting a new life.”

Adam is quiet for a moment, but then starts singing. It's a new experience to be pressed against Adam when he sings and to feel the sound resonate in Adam's body. To feel the muscles working and hear all the intakes of breath, to have his arm over Adam's chest rise and fall in time with Adam's lungs expanding. The song is new, too, maybe something that Adam has been working on recently. There's something familiar in the lyrics, though, and Sauli realises they're like another version of what was once written in a letter, but a much sweeter and more sincere version.

” _Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me_

_Each night, each morning_

 

_Love me, that's all I ask of you.”_


End file.
